


Our Ersatz Commander: Rebirth

by AnonymousPumpkin



Series: Our Ersatz Commander: The EDI-fication of Commander Shepard [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: (Literally The Entire Plot Is Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms), Artificial Intelligence, Control Ending, Depression, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, On Hiatus, Post-Canon, The Comfort Comes Later, The Hurt Comes First, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, obvious lack of programming knowledge, post-ME3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:33:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5821552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousPumpkin/pseuds/AnonymousPumpkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The voice was wrong. It was static-y and synthetic. It was frivolous and cheerful. It had the gall to smile and salute at anyone who triggered its sensors, repeating a series of canned responses that would never have come out of Shepard’s lips in life. It was not the first Shepard VI EDI had ever seen, but it was beyond a shadow of a doubt the worst.<br/>“With my newest update,” it proudly boasted when prompted, “I can predict what the real Shepard would say with 8% accuracy!”<br/>A decade after the end of the Reaper War, EDI and Jeff still struggle with the grief of losing their Commander. An encounter with a Shepard VI inspires EDI to make a rash, petty, and somewhat ridiculous decision that snowballs into something bigger. The story of a VI, an AI, and some questionable moral decisions.</p><p>CURRENTLY ON HIATUS AND BEING COMPLETELY RE WRITTEN</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Her Voice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [terrorpersonified](https://archiveofourown.org/users/terrorpersonified/gifts).



> NOTE: This story is currently on hiatus and I don't know for how long. I've realized I'm not happy with the way I handled the story setting, so I'm rehauling it. I'm not sure when the new version will be published.
> 
> Alternately alternately titled: EDI: The Modern Prometheus
> 
> This is based off of a dream that my brother had a few days after finishing Mass Effect 3. It was too perfect not to write. A fucking YEAR later, I think it's finally good enough to publish. Kind of. Maybe. This story is actually already mostly written. It's already eight and a half fully written chapters, 50 pages, and, like, 16,000 words. Definitely my longest project to date, and definitely the one I'm the most proud of.
> 
> A bit of a warning: This chapter is beyond a doubt not the strongest. It was the first one I wrote (that sounds like it would be obvious, but almost all the chapters after this were written out of order), and also the one I've done the least tweaking to, since it's really just set-up for the actual story. That said, I promise the others are a bit more...coherent? In-character? Readable? It's amazing how much your writing can mature in a year.

21th of November 2199 1747h Galactic Standard Time

The voice was wrong. It was static-y and synthetic. It was frivolous and _cheerful_ , completely lacking in the smooth conviction that Her crew still dreamed of years after Her death. But far worse was that the _inflection_ and the very _pitch_ of Her words was wrong. Her subtle accent, the turbulent emotion always bleeding into every word, the ever-present confidence that She constantly projected...they were bastardized, distilled, watered down, _ruined_ in this pale mockery of Her image. It had the gall to smile and salute at anyone who triggered its sensors, repeating a series of canned responses that would never have come out of Shepard’s lips in life. It bounced on its heels, grinned without discrimination, and shamelessly plugged the Alliance at every opportunity. It was not the first Shepard VI that EDI had ever seen, but it was beyond a shadow of a doubt the worst.

The VI’s home platform was lying abandoned on an empty table, where it was being used to advertise multicultural cuisine. A slightly-too-short, blue-static portrayal of Commander Shepard guarded the half-eaten plates and crumpled coats of its patrons, turning every now and then to face a customer and ask them about their dining experience. It peppered its inquiries with a seemingly endless supply of one-liners and quips taken sorely out of context.

“With my newest update,” it proudly boasted when prompted, “I can predict what the real Shepard would say with 8% accuracy!”

EDI was disgusted by the VI. Not by its self, precisely, but by the fact that, against all odds, someone had taken the time to create and then _re_ create it after the War, bravely toeing the lines of law and morality. When Shepard had been alive, it had been amusingly offensive, a laughable joke told in poor taste. Now...now it was just tasteless and it was just offensive. More than a decade after her death, and someone had decided that the world still needed Shepard, and had taken the time to assemble this horrible mockery to fill that void. And they were using it to sell intergalactic _sushi_.

The barely-life-sized hologram flickered, beaming at EDI obliviously. It was her turn now, to be enticed into trying some new exotic cuisine.

They hadn’t even gotten Her face right. Her cheeks were not that full, Her lips were not so inclined to smile, and this thing’s eyes were smaller and more slanted in an almost offensive caricature of her heritage. It was a happier, romantic portrayal, and were EDI organic, it might have made her physically sick.

She cast a glance over her shoulder at where Jeff had gone. He had seen the holo and immediately excused himself to wander elsewhere on the plaza, leaving her to judge it silent and alone. She had told him she would join him, but at the moment she couldn’t find it in herself to walk away. She needed at least two more minutes of observation before she could definitely say she hated the thing, and perhaps another minute more before she could decide the proper way to express that hatred.

Three minutes passed in predictable exactness, and EDI acted.

With organic slowness, she approached the VI. It turned to her and spat out another canned greeting, which she abruptly cut off in the most horrendous way possible, to a synthetic life form. The silence after she turned it off was ringing. She picked up the VI’s platform from the floor and tucked it into her jacket. She turned away from the storefront, proud of her conquest, and sought out Jeff.

In a few moments, she was sure someone would notice the theft, but she doubted anyone would mourn the loss and report her. At least, she sincerely hoped no one would.

She found him browsing the shelves of an “antique shop” that seemed to sell broken, rather than archaic, items. She slid to his side easily, sliding her arm through his. He barely looked at her, apparently focused on the toy model ship in the window.

The VI was momentarily forgotten as she focused on Jeff.

His eyes were sunken and dim, though the circles around them had improved over the last few years. He still didn’t look quite healthy, and she was beginning to wonder if he ever would. His cheeks were almost as gaunt as Hers had been. His hands didn’t shake anymore when he took EDI’s arm, but more likely than not he would lean heavily on her when they returned home. Their old lie that she was a mobility assistance unit was no longer so extreme a fabrication. In addition to his physical running-down, which she had been informed was a by-product of his injuries sustained when the Normandy crashed as well as advanced age, he seemed to be “slowing down” emotionally as well, which she was certain could not be attributed to the same root causes. His laughs were short and harsh and didn’t seem to convey true amusement any longer. Even her constant reminders for medication and physical therapy failed to rouse much of a reaction from him, negative or otherwise. It was worrying, even if it had been going on for quite a long time.

It seemed that saving the galaxy took a heavy toll, even on those who survived.

They wandered around the store for almost an hour, until the owner got sick of their browsing and demanded that they buy something or just leave. EDI purchased a ballcap and Jeff broke down and got the model ship. She didn’t miss Jeff’s quick glance to the empty restaurant storefront when they left, and even an organic would’ve seen his obvious relief at the VI’s absence.

"Do you wish to return to the apartment?” she asked, equal parts sincerity and duplicity.   “No.” Audibly gritting his teeth, Jeff stopped walking. His grip tightened on her arm, and his face twisted and darkened as he immediately reconsidered his answer. “Actually...yeah. I could use a nap.”

EDI’s response was similar to relief, and she showed it in a small smile. “Although I had planned on us returning by the scenic route,” she stated, “I think we would both appreciate returning as quickly as possible. I shall call a cab.” She paused, mostly for dramatic effect. The hail was instantaneous. “He shall arrive in approximately five minutes.”

Jeff hummed and leaned against her. He watched the slow crowd milling by, and she watched him.

They were grounded again, for the third time in seven years. It was not permanent, Jeff insisted, but his behavior lately was concerning. This time, like every other time, it had been deemed a medical necessity, and he had been strongly cautioned against anything even remotely similar to piloting a ship.

The first time this had happened, EDI had been sure that the doctor had been too hasty. The second time, she considered the possibility of a psychological break. It was during their second grounding that she had begun comparing her observations to the notes taken by Alliance psychiatrists as well as to what was left of the Cerberus records from just before Shepard’s resurrection. The results of her research were not encouraging. She worried for him. At first she had tried in her own way to combat his depression, but she knew now that even twelve years was not long enough for him to recover from the staggering blow of losing his father, sister, and commander, not to mention acquaintances beyond measure. The war had left the country crippled, down to the last mind.

"C’mon, EDI, what are you thinking about? I can practically _hear_ the gears grinding in your head.”

 She was past the point of being startled by Jeff’s strange ability to read her minute, if even existent, tells to anxiety and deep thought, though it was still something that intrigued her greatly. Given that she was completely synthetic and therefore all such tells should have to have been programmed in (and to her knowledge, they _hadn’t_ been), her mood should have been impossible to gauge unless she made an effort to show it.

“That is an impossibility, Jeff,” she informed him, tone light and playful. “There are no ‘gears’ in my head large enough to produce an audible sound for you to hear, and even if there were, they would not ‘grind’ louder simply because I was lost in deep thought.”

He didn’t reply to her over-literal response, and instead simply waited for her to actually answer his question. This was a ‘game’ they played, if it could be called a game; he intended to wait her out. Early in their relationship, this stunt would only end in his frustration, but now she didn’t have it in her to deny him intimate knowledge to her thoughts. She remembered getting advice long ago about being open and being honest, and how important it was to the strength of a relationship.

"I’m thinking about Shepard,” she said, and it was only half a lie. She knew that bringing up her concerns about his health would only inspire hostility, and he would refuse to speak to her for several hours out of defensive spite. She was not entirely certain that _this_ topic was much safer to navigate.

His face screwed up, and his jaw tightened, and EDI’s trepidation increased. Perhaps she should have lied. “It was the damn VI, wasn’t it?” Without waiting for an answer, he rushed on, “It’s so damned disrespectful. What right do they have to parade around with some cheap knock-off of _her_ like nothing happened while the rest of us, you know, the ones who _actually knew her_ , have to walk around with our hearts torn out?”

EDI didn’t know what to say, not right away. She finally settled for saying, “It’s not fair,” but that felt inadequate to truly encompass the tragedy of the situation.

It wasn’t something EDI felt she was precisely qualified to say, but she decided that it was what he wanted to hear. Or, perhaps, what he needed to hear. She was still not entirely certain as to the distinction when it came to organics.

He ground his teeth, eyes dark, and she began to wonder if that had been the right thing to say after all. “Damn right it’s not.” His voice sounded thick, as if he was on the verge of tears. He stayed silent for several moments. “What do you think she’d say, if she saw that shit?”

EDI considered a moment, and this time her answer was easy. “My previous observations indicate that Shepard regarded the VI’s with amusement.” She paused, considering her words carefully. “I believe that we who loved and respected her are far more offended on her behalf than she would have been for herself.” She thought of that particular VI in the refugee area of the Citadel, and how Shepard had almost gleefully interacted with it every chance she got. “She seemed to find them more entertaining than anything else… She would talk to them for hours and quiz them on which of them was the ‘better’ Shepard.”

Jeff turned his head to look up at her. “Those who loved her…” he repeated softly. It seemed the rest of her statement had ‘fallen on deaf ears.’

 They didn’t speak on the rest of the trip back, not in the cab or on the short trip upstairs, other than a few wordless grunts of thanks from Jeff as she helped him up the shallow steps leading to their apartment building. He let her control the elevator (she did not even pretend to understand why he had chosen an apartment on the twelfth floor) and wrestle with the door, which had been glitchy from the moment they’d moved in.

She escorted him to bed immediately. When he made no move to do so himself, she counted out his medication, leaving the pills out for him to take at his discretion. He ignored them, laying back and staring first at her. She met his gaze steadily, knowing better than to bug him about the medication. Eventually his gaze drifted upwards, and he stared at the ceiling until his eyelids began to droop. Only then did he drowsily lift his hand and grab at the small handful, popping them into his mouth and swallowing with practiced ease. He waved away the water she offered. Within minutes, he was asleep.

EDI stayed beside him for a long time after he drifted off, making sure that he was sleeping deep enough to actually get rest. After fifty-seven minutes and thirty-one seconds, she left the room.

She and Jeff shared a very small apartment, which was more practical than pretty, more by his design than hers. She had discovered a love in interior decorating that Jeff emphatically didn’t share, and while originally they’d compromised between utility and aesthetics, eventually she’d decided to curb in her own preferences to make day-to-day life easier. Jeff was notoriously untidy, and it seemed to get exponentially more disastrous with the number of items he could disrupt in the room.

She picked up the few items that were out of place; there was very little in their apartment at all, so there was little to clean. She set up their television to record the newest episode of the crime drama that Jeff was interested in, and updated their automated garden to water the plants less frequently, remembering that the forecast stated a great deal more rain in the coming weeks. By the time she came to the conclusion that she was purposefully stalling, the VI had begun to beep insistently, warning her that it was overheating in the confines of her jacket.

She retreated finally to her “room.” It wasn’t really a room...it was just a closet that Jeff wasn’t using. He called it hers and made pains to avoid it despite her insistence that she didn’t really need her own private space. She used it primarily to store the clothes she dressed her mobile platform in, and to house the collection of seemingly random items she had accumulated over the years. Originally, it had been as sparsely decorated and furnished as the rest of the apartment, but now Jeff described it as “blindingly colorful and cramped,” as random souvenirs and mementos lined the shelves built into the walls.

She shed her jacket and placed the VI on the counter at the back of the room. She let it power down and restart, aware that its trip in her jacket had warmed it to almost dangerous temperatures. This room was kept at ideal conditions for machinery, slightly chillier than what was optimal for most organics.

The VI made an unseemly buzzing noise while it cooled off, and after a few seconds of silence, booted back up with a whine. Leaving it on stand-by, EDI ran several diagnostics on the rudimentary program and, after deeming it safe if somewhat redundant, she connected it to the portion of her systems chiefly concerned with Jeff’s home security. She already had a VI that monitored security vids and the like in her absence, so she allowed this one to run its base functions, which appeared to be a laughable attempt at virus protection.

With that done, she put the VI to the “back of her mind,” and set about her more domestic functions. She checked on Jeff again. He still slept soundly, so she retreated to run diagnostics of all their home systems, tested all their resident VI’s and protection programs, and then she ran similar processes aboard the Normandy. She mourned the slower response time from her main body, several seconds of lag between her request and her response. The Normandy was halfway across the galaxy at the moment, running a relief mission to a colony suffering a draught.

She sat in silence running through several tasks for a simultaneous eternity and instant before the VI came back to the top of her list of priorities. She physically turned to it and, anticipating her attention, it hummed to life and hastened to spit out its pale caricature of her late Commander. Its substandard effigy flickered expectantly, edges shaking and blurring as it awaited her non-forthcoming input. It tried uncertainly to speak to her, but she ignored it for the most part. She tried to gauge her own response to the VI in terms of human emotion, and struggled to put names to even the most basic feelings. She felt a hesitance, a lack of objectivity and clarity that usually only clouded her judgment when it came to Jeff.

It took her a while to identify her “emotions” regarding the VI, ignoring the obvious reluctance its resemblance to her late Commander engendered. On one hand, she had an almost _basic_ attachment to it as a fellow synthetic personality, and found something like a desire in her to preserve and protect it despite its circumstances. On the other, she felt disgust for it due to its simplicity in comparison to herself. The disgust was soured by what was almost _pity_ for the same. She was deeply repulsed by its existence, wholly offended by its circumstance, and utterly aghast at its primitive build. None of these reactions explained, however, why she had taken it rather than simply gone on her way and ignored it, as Jeff had done. Surely they both had the same basic reaction to it.

“What is your name?” she asked it, finally.

Its response was disturbing. Its voice sounded even less like Shepard’s than before, chipper and eager and deep. “I’m Commander Shepard, of course,” it said.

_Of course._

If it were alive, it would be beaming at her like a child. “I can predict what the _real_ Shepard would say with 8% accuracy!” it told her again, and it sounded truly proud of what she had no doubt was an achievement.

EDI didn’t even deign to answer.

Several ideas were conceived, thoroughly examined, and discarded before one came up that EDI approved of.

She would… _test_ it, gauge its boasted accuracy from a more credible standpoint. It claimed to be 8% accurate as if this was some kind of accomplishment, but was the purpose of a synthetic personality not to achieve 100%? In that case, anything less than 75% was unacceptable. Anything below 40% was just pathetic.

A test of knowledge first. How well did this VI, or its creators, actually _know_ Shepard? EDI asked a few simple questions first: where was She born, what were Her parents’ names, what was Her first military assignment? The VI could barely answer even the most basic questions, promptly and proudly informed her that Shepard’s first name was actually _Commander_. In spite of its obvious lack of knowledge, EDI felt compelled to continue asking questions which grew more pointed and private as the excursion continued.

“With whom did Commander Shepard share a romantic liaison in 2185 during the Normandy’s second term under Cerberus authority?” she demanded, several hours into the maddening interrogation. This would be followed up, of course, by a question concerning Shepard’s legal name. The VI’s knowledge of Shepard’s life was spotty at best, which was both comforting and infuriating. On one hand, that meant that its creators had little knowledge about Shepard, which was good considering it was made in a public domain. On the other, that meant the interview was frustrating to an extreme. By the end of it, EDI was tempted to simply shut the VI off. It was an insult to Shepard, intentional or not, and it upset her.

She was almost amused by its almost youthful simplicity, though: it latched onto only one word in her entire question, and responded as it saw fit...which was poorly. “Cerberus? Ha! Blew those guys up on my way to real threats!” The sentence was nostalgic, but not satisfactory.

Shepard’s attitude towards the necessary purge of Cerberus from the galaxy was nowhere near that dismissive. She had acknowledged fully the strength and ruthlessness of Her opposition, stating quite correctly that to underestimate them would result in a critical mission failure. The public’s, and consequently this VI’s, estimation of Shepard’s bravado was grossly exaggerated. It was, as Jeff claimed, borderline offensive.

She spent the rest of the night cycling through the VI’s recorded audio responses, asking it questions ranging from analytical to sentimental, from simple to challenging, testing its boast of “8% accuracy” by attempting to engage it in familiar conversation. By the end of her impromptu experiment, she estimated its accuracy at closer to 6.3%. Halfway through the night, the discrepancies in its voice became annoying, and she paused the conversation in order to find more acceptable responses. In the meantime, she left it to its designed purpose, trusting her own safeguards to keep it out of any real trouble.

EDI logged into accounts and activated clearances that had remained untouched for years. This required a bit of effort on her part. Though she had access to nearly everything on the Normandy and some information beyond, there were some things that were protected by firewalls and encryptions of her own design, mostly to prevent especially nosy journalists or intelligence officers from accessing information they had no right to. Old security footage and audio logs were such protected resources. Most of the protected records chiefly concerned Shepard.

There was a strange ping in EDI’s systems as she began sorting through security vids of Shepard aboard the Normandy years ago. It was uncomfortable but not unpleasant, unidentifiable but not unfamiliar. She filed the response away for examination later, and began compiling and splicing together acceptable substitutes for the VI’s canned responses that were more compatible with Shepard’s actual personality. She gathered thousands of audio files, the poorest of which were grades better than the spliced imitations it had now. As she began to upload the files, the VI demanded, suddenly,

“What the hell are you doing to me?”

The indignation and surprise in its voice made her pause, very briefly. That inflection, that emotion...it was familiar...and it was gone in an instant.

“I mean, c’mon, warn a girl before you go poking around her code!”

EDI’s hesitation was crushed. There was that 6.3%. “I am improving you,” she answered curtly.

It fell silent at that, its pseudo-curiosity satisfied for the moment. Or, more likely, it lacked the processing power to speak and download audio at the same time.

EDI left it to its “work” and got up to check on Jeff again (she had been monitoring him remotely the entire night, but there was an added sense of security to be found in physically being in the room).

Leaving her room posed an immediate challenge. The door was blocked by a heavy, furry obstacle that let out a whining huff when she pushed insistently.

“Hubris, move,” she ordered, and was ignored.

It took her several moments of gentle nudges and strong commands to get the dog (a suggestion from Dr. Yale to help Jeff form more stable emotional connections) out from in front of the door, which he frequently judged (incorrectly) to be an acceptable place for him to sleep. He whined at her as she slipped out of the barely-sufficient space he surrendered, and she patted his head in the manner she had seen Jeff do many times. This seemed to placate him, though he gave her a strange look as she walked away. Apparently her show of affection was not quite the same.

Hubris trotted behind her as she crossed the small distance to Jeff’s room (she had a door in her room that led directly to his, but he had blocked it with some furniture almost immediately for reasons she hadn’t ever inquired after). His door was open, which she did not appreciate. It invited danger, despite the chances of his being harmed while she was near being slim to none.

He was still asleep. She woke him to remind him to take his medication. More accurately, actually, she woke him up, reminded him of his physical obligations to his own health, and he told her to fuck off and let him sleep. It took several minutes of meaningful staring for him to acquiesce to her silent pestering.

“I’m not five, you know,” he complained, but didn’t physically resist her bringing his medicine. He swallowed the pills with a grimace, and accepted the cup of water she offered. “Happy now?”

"For the moment.” She leaned close to him, inclining her head ever so slightly. He took the hint and kissed her quickly before laying back down. She reached for his hand, and he laced their fingers together, not seeming to mind that EDI’s were a bit slow to comply.

She wanted to ask him about the VI, but judged that it was not the right time. Just seeing it had left him obviously shaken, and his sleep had been troubled, and he still needed rest.

She let Hubris jump up onto the bed, which she only did when she judged Jeff in dire need of the comfort. She also trusted him to be gentle enough not to put him in any physical danger or pain. He provided an organic warmth that EDI could not, a crucial contributor to Jeff’s emotional health.

She watched the two of them fall back asleep, ignoring Jeff’s muttered comment of, “damned creepy robot mom,” a fairly common moniker, and composed a message to his primary doctor. She was still posing as a VI and mobility unit to anyone who inquired (she ascertained that Jeff may not appreciate many people knowing that a great deal of his life was overseen by his “hot robot girlfriend,” another common name), so the message was suitably soulless and would be translated as an automated medical alert set to send in the event that he had not taken his medicine in seven days. It had actually been nine days since he had last taken his prescribed dose, but the past two days she had tried to give him the benefit of a doubt. The message she sent next, to Dr. Chakwas, had more personality and was more honest. She expressed her concern, both for Jeff’s mental and physical well-being, and inquired as to her own health. Last she’d checked, Chakwas was still working aboard the _Journeyman_.

EDI kept up with all of the Normandy’s crew, new and old. She monitored their communications and affairs in as noninvasive a manner she could, and kept constant contact with most of them. At one point, she had done it merely as a favor for Shepard, who had at one point expressed concern for the members of Her crew who were estranged after her brief run with Cerberus. Even after Her death, EDI had continued keeping track of them all, and even on several occasions had actually personally interfered when their safety or well-being was compromised. She wasn’t sure why she still did it when she had, in lieu of Shepard’s death, been absolved of any obligation to that particular duty, but she was beginning to suspect that he did it was for a similar reason that she had taken the VI. Sentimentality was starting to grow on her...or perhaps it was the other way around?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell yet that I have a very basic knowledge of coding? If not, don't worry. It only gets worse at it goes along.
> 
> Seriously, the writing gets better. I think.


	2. Her Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EDI gets the VI a better mirror, and a very important question is asked in a very unimportant way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See! Look! I managed to keep my own schedule! I have decided after much deliberation to post chapters/upload any serious editing every Monday, and I just _barely_ made it today. It's been a long, crazy day preceded by a long, exhausting weekend. But here, at last, is some wild AI adventures to make it better.

3rd of January 2200 0612h Galactic Standard Time 

She wasn’t sure who or what exactly its creators had used a reference for the VI’s face, but obviously it hadn’t been Shepard. Everything about it was subtly off. The proportions of her face were skewed to miniscule degrees. The way it moved was incorrect in an indescribable way. A Shepard-look-alike had been modeled, or else flat images from vids had been used to form the face, much like the second-rate impersonator they’d obviously used for its audio.

EDI regarded the facade with little fondness. “That’s going to have to go,” she decided aloud.

She had kept it in her closet for several months, interacting minimally with it when she had the time, and correcting it on its many and obvious missteps. It always felt the need to spit out this patchwork image of Shepard’s face when they had their brief, tense conversations, and EDI’s tolerance, though vast, was not endless.

The VI was silent, accepting her declaration with not even the slightest visible inclination of resistance. She felt almost disdainful of its complacency. She _wanted_ it to argue with her, to rebuke her for daring to change it. She wanted it to cling to itself, to want to preserve the way it was, in spite of the fact that she wanted nothing more than to destroy it. She wanted it to resist _her_ changes to it, to admonish _her_ for daring to tamper with its own individuality. That individuality, unfortunately, was mostly nonexistent at the moment. There was little for it to defend. That bothered her as well.

Having gathered several million holos, photographs, and vids of Her by now, it was with little effort that EDI devised a more proper and accurate reference of Shepard’s face for the VI to use. Tweaking the projection was easier than overhauling the audio had been, and went much faster. When its model was acceptably lifelike, she provided it with a large database of references of what Shepard’s face looked like in motion.

In barely more than a minute, her work was complete. It was as if the late Commander Herself was looking at EDI through a (fairly crappy) holocomm. Its proportions were correct even under the most in-depth scrutiny, and its expressions were more nuanced and subdued. Its body language was familiar and comforting, subtle and contained and so careful. The only way she could possibly improve it further at the moment would be if she physically upgraded its projector...which she could do later, she supposed, when she devised a way to spend such a large sum of money without Jeff getting suspicious. She believed a hologram that projected in color would be acceptable...or else she could install the VI in a larger platform with a screen. Of course, both options posed the problem of _size_...if it grew too large to be portable, it would essentially fail to be useful in any way to her, unless she altered its function along the way, which was not completely out of the question, given how much work she would need to do in the first place to improve it. At the moment, it was some kind of rudimentary anti-virus, in actuality an extraordinarily dumbed-down version of what _she_ was, and though it also seemed to run basic secretarial work as well.

“Smile,” she ordered it, and it obeyed without delay. The expression was correct...so much so that she felt _that_ again: that strange little ache that she couldn’t identify. It stopped smiling after thirty seconds of her non-responsive silence, and she almost ordered it to smile again to see if she could replicate her response. Instead, she told it,

“Frown.”

It obeyed.

“Cough.”

It obeyed.

“Laugh.”

It obeyed, and it was _awful_.

“Don’t do that again,” she ordered, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that it wouldn’t.

“You got it, soldier,” it agreed readily.

“Soldier?” If she had eyebrows, EDI would’ve raised them at that.

“You’re Alliance, aren’t you?” There was the slightest bit of hesitance in the query, just enough to pique her interest. It wasn’t sure, yet it had made the assumption and acted on it.

“No. Not anymore.” She frowned. It shouldn’t have had sufficient data to assume her allegiance. She had not mentioned the Normandy overmuch in its presence, and there were no military messages for it to have intercepted in its day job of sorting their mail. That it had made that assumption was...promising. “I am an Alliance VI salvaged by Cerberus and developed into a full artificial intelligence, but I no longer have any ties to either organization.”

“Oh.”

She found herself waiting to see if this garnered any reaction from it, and was disappointed with what she saw. It just stared at her, almost blank-faced. Its face was accurate enough to portray the pensive confusion it might have felt beneath her scrutiny, if its still-basic processes could be described as feelings.

While she was on the subject of those processes...those would have to be fixed as well. The program had obviously been an amateur job, but she was certain she could, with some additional resources, improve it. The more she interacted with it, the more it annoyed her, and EDI had never been one to take such challenges passively.

 _How_ to improve it, however, was the challenge itself. Although she was very skilled in _destroying_ other synthetic beings, she was less familiar on how to build or nurture them. The fact that the VI was poorly constructed to begin with would make her machinations all the more difficult.

EDI took a moment to pull up resources and information about the maintenance of personality VIs, carefully avoiding openly illegal channels and searches. Despite the relative chaos involved in governing the scattered Post-War galaxy, there was still an entire branch of almost every major government dedicated to stopping the wanton creation of unsupervised AI.

Every resource she found was preceded by the same warning almost verbatim: “Do not devote _too_ much time to the enhancement of your personality VI, and be aware of the software limits set in place by your government. Especially with new advances in technology, the accidental creation of AIs is always a risk when too much devoted updating is done.” She noted that some suggested, in the case of developing a virtual personality, that direct and varied contact with other personalities often helped its development along, assuming that it had some kind of learning algorithm.

That was problematic. She was the _only_ personality that the VI interacted with until now, for security’s sake. She could not think of any member of the Normandy’s crew who would appreciate her approaching them with the VI. It had been too long for the grief to make them irrational to the point of blindly accepting it, but the wound was still raw enough (she assumed) for many of them that the sight of it would inspire hostility.  There was also no one else _beyond_ the Normandy crew that she trusted would to treat it either as a comical machine or as an awe-inspiring relic. No…for now, this was her secret.

“What the hell are you doing to me?” the VI demanded. It said it exactly as it had before, with the same inflection, the same indignation. EDI didn’t fail to notice.

"I am enhancing your list of emotional cues and blocks.” She answered it absently, most of her attention turned towards the task at hand. She had spent nearly two months researching before she had finally decided she was knowledgeable enough to actually tamper with the VI’s code. She frowned as she encountered a particularly ridiculous command, one that reminded her of a more...inhibited Shepard. She couldn’t think of a single instance where this synthetic Shepard would ever need to act inebriated, so she deleted it. “I am also repairing critical errors in your code,” she decided on a whim.

It flew in the face of all odds that it had survived this long with such amateurish work. It should have crashed months ago, long before she found it.

As she continued to tinker, its hologram flickered sporadically at first and then died out completely. It let out a buzz to inform her that it was still awake, but the majority of the “operation” passed in silence. Several times EDI stopped to reference a guide or review her own records of Shepard’s behavior. Errors, even small ones, were not acceptable.

The operation took the better part of several days. She periodically came out of her room to reassure Jeff that she hadn’t malfunctioned or abandoned him, though he spent just as much time in isolation.

There was no definite “end” to this work, but after the first “session,” EDI was not satisfied with the result. There was too much she couldn’t definitively tell it to do, too many words she couldn’t definitively tell it to say.

It waited a few moments, waiting to make sure that she was finished. This was the longest they’d gone without her trying to change it, and it must have reasoned that she was done. When it decided that she was truly done, its hologram jumped out at her again, readjusting its uniform as if it had just come out of a harrowing meeting. It leaned its hips as well, shifting its weight from foot to foot and looking down at its “body” as if looking for some significant change. It muttered something about “fuckin’ weird,” obviously not addressed to her. EDI felt satisfaction at this obvious and immediate display that her improvements were taking hold.

The VI sounded acceptably life-like when it finally addressed her again, asking, “Why would I want you to change me?”

It had been a long time (more than a week, actually) since she’d made the statement that would have warranted that question, but the fact that it bothered to ask it at all was cause for hope.

EDI had expected that the question would’ve been difficult to answer, but her response was prompt. “Regardless of the rudimentary administrative tasks you are programmed for,” she began, “your primary objective is to be as close a likeness to the late Commander Shepard as is possible.” She turned to fully face the hologram, which regarded her with eyes too impassive. “I have determined you to be incapable of achieving this objective in your current state. Therefore, I am improving you.” The statement felt false on some level, but she could find no other logical reason for her to be performing these actions.

It considered this. “Alright.” It made a hum similar to a sigh, and then smiled at her. “I guess you would know best.”

EDI felt a stutter somewhere in the back of her mind. She knew it was not Shepard looking up at her with such a trusting expression, an expression that bordered on adoration, but it felt almost the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was tempted to leave a note saying that _this_ was the weakest chapter. The truth is, I am just horribly critical of my own writing. The first two chapters are short and a bit lackluster, and that bothers me.
> 
> I'm comforting myself, however, with the knowledge that my favorite two chapters are coming up here soon! The story really does pick up at some point, I swear....


	3. Her Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EDI and the VI do some light reading, and EDI questions the finer points of individuality and choice.

12th of March 2199 1345h Galactic Standard Time

It was not without hesitation that EDI accessed Shepard’s long-untouched personnel files. She had determined that the wide host of publicly accessible records (which were, for the most part, old news articles and collegiate level academic papers) were no longer sufficient for teaching the VI about the woman it strove to imitate. They often painted a flat and inaccurate portrait of Her emotions and behavior, as they were based almost entirely on the opinions and observations of the majority. It would be better, she determined, to allow it access to actual excerpts of Her thoughts, and to the observations made by those closest to Her, who would understand Her better than any journalist or scholar could ever hope to. However, a sense of respect for the lost made EDI pause briefly before accessing the files, which consisted mostly of mission logs, personal correspondence, medical evaluations, and other more personal records than any other military official would have access to.

These records had been gathered shortly before Shepard’s resurrection under Project Lazarus. It had been Miranda Lawson’s idea: in the event that Shepard’s brain was damaged and memory was slow to return, the files would provide a reference to jog Her mind, and hopefully inspire Her back into being the hero the galaxy needed. EDI had continued to add to them as the months went on, even after she was freed from Cerberus control, as a favor to Shepard Herself. The Commander had admitted to feeling doubt as to Her own identity, and sometimes felt such extreme dissociation that revisiting the files became necessary. EDI had always allowed Her Her privacy in those moments; she had never once opened even a single one of these files. Shepard had never shared these files with her explicitly, though sometimes She seemed to have operated under the assumption that EDI had browsed them anyway. In truth, EDI had avoided them while She was alive out of respect for Her privacy, and in the years following Her death had kept the same consideration. There had been a feeling of _wrongness_ associated with the thought of prying which had increased exponentially after Her death.

Here she was, about to access them now, to try and jog the memory of something that _definitely_ wasn’t Shepard.

EDI seemed to truly consider, for the first time, what she was doing. She was, essentially, raising the dead and, for all that she spoke of improvement and purpose, she was likely doing it for purely selfish reasons. The moral ramifications of this course of action (not only as a singular act but its implications of similar actions in the future) would’ve been frowned upon by Shepard if She’d still lived. She would’ve told EDI to let the dead rest, to let go of the past and move on. Could EDI truly claim to be doing this in Her name, or in Her memory, if she was doing something that She would disapprove of, something that She would _condemn_? And for what purpose? To elevate a VI simply because it had offended her?

Less than half a second later, EDI had downloaded every file in the first directory and moved onto the next without hesitation. The act of copying and downloading the massive database was time-consuming, but she threw herself into it. She considered reviewing some of the files for accuracy (there were several instances, she knew for example, when emotional trauma made Her words less than accurate to her normal functions), but ultimately she decided that, if her previous tampering had gone according to plan, the VI would react to fallacies and hyperboles with the necessary consideration. Organics were, after all, naturally contradictory. It was an unavoidable flaw.

So she resisted her desire to read through the information herself. It was not her personality to uncover, nor her secrets to know. All she did was ensure that none of the files had corrupted with age; she doubted the VI had the power to overcome such a snag.

It was very early in the morning when she presented the VI with the ocean of reference she’d collected, gathered physically in a datapad as thick as a book. She wanted to give them both as much time as possible to look things over. A friend of Jeff’s was in town, and they were spending most of the day together. EDI had opted to stay behind on this outing, and she felt that Jeff was grateful for the privacy. This gave her most of the day to sit with the VI without feeling guilty or neglecting her duties to him.

“What’s this?” the VI asked. It had recently begun questioning her on everything, even when she was performing the most routine tasks. EDI took its inquisitiveness as a good sign. Shepard had always disliked being kept in the dark, even on the simplest of things, and this new inclination to curiosity was a step in the right direction.

“I have accessed the late Commander Shepard’s personal files and private correspondences, as well as Alliance and Cerberus personnel files.”

She watched it closely for its reaction. The VI flickered to life at her words, flashing its lights and letting out a soft _whirr!_ of acknowledgement. It neglected to project its holographic “body” for this conversation. It did that less often these days, she had noticed. Perhaps it was conserving energy. She didn’t mind. Its new platform was more expressive, anyway, than the simple box it’d inhabited before, and often it didn’t need a hologram to get its point across. She had installed it into a mobile information drone similar to Liara’s Glyph several weeks ago, and had told Jeff that it was assisting her with an unspecified task. He hadn’t really questioned it. EDI had been doing odd side projects to entertain herself for years now, and he had learned to just “roll with it”.

That was what this was, wasn’t it? Another odd side project?

“This should be an accurate enough record of Her professional and private life for you to form a more reliable basis of Her personality. Until this point, I have altered your processes myself. However, I have determined that you are fully capable of learning on your own, and that to do so would be to your benefit. The goal of this excursion is to give you the resources to edit your own programming based on your experiences.”

“You mean _her_ experiences,” it corrected her promptly.

EDI frowned. “Yes.”

It considered this. She got the sense of being watched very closely, although it didn’t give any indication that it was looking at her at all.

“Look at it with me?” It posed it like a request, but the tone of voice it used was one that EDI was used to obeying without question or hesitation.

“Yes.” She waved it over and connected it physically to the datapad, which would allow for much faster absorption. It hesitantly offered her its port, and beeped when it began browsing the information.

She sat down, folding her hands in her lap. The datapad was on the desk in front of her, and the VI was floating over her shoulder. At first, the datapad’s screen flashed erratically as the VI browsed through the information quickly, but gradually the stream of info slowed, and eventually the VI began to read through the records at a remarkably organic speed. It chose to spend several seconds or even several minutes ruminating over every bit of information they uncovered as it they uncovered it, and sometimes even went back to check over something again. EDI was delighted at this display of deliberation.

They started with her recruitment files. There were other files dated far earlier than that, but for reasons that she didn’t question, the VI neglected to explore them. Perhaps it was guided its obsession with Her military life, for which she could not in good conscious fault it.

EDI was unprepared for how different the Shepard in the recruitment photo was. She was decades younger than the Shepard that EDI knew, eighteen years old compared to thirty-two, but there was something more than that. The way this girl held herself was different. It almost _was_ like looking at a Shepard VI: she had a slight smile where her older self would not, no more than a tiny quirk at the corner of her mouth, and a proud arrogance in her face that would be washed away by her third decade. The Shepard EDI had known had had a hardness in Her features. It had softened somewhat in Her more compassionate moments, but Her face was sharp and cool nonetheless. She was an extremely emotional woman who stifled Her emotions, and it showed in the lines on Her face. This young woman had none of that. She had not yet seen the horrors that would change her life, and she could not even imagine them.

There were a great many curiosities satisfied that day. There was much that EDI didn’t know about Shepard, much that she had refused to know. She had refused to look at this information without invitation. This VI was not similar enough yet for EDI to count its invitation for company as actual permission from _Her_ , but it was as close as she was ever going to get now. Shepard had told EDI some details of Her life aboard the Normandy, just as much as She told any other crew member during Her regular “private talks” with them, but, for EDI, She hadn’t told quite enough to satisfy. EDI had always wanted to know a little more, but refrained from asking or prying out of respect. To discover about Her in _this_ way felt...wrong, somehow. She debated several times getting up and walking away, but each time she came to the decision to stay.

“Shepard.”

It was strange to hear Her voice saying Her own name in such a manner. The VI said it at first with a contemplative hesitance, as if it was testing the name for its sound. Then it said it again, this time with the casual confidence EDI knew well. Then it said it a third time, with different inflection, and then a fourth, and then a fifth…

“Commander Vinh Shepard, Alliance Navy.” It finally said something besides its own name, even if it was just reading the top line of her biography. “Born April 11th 2153, died February 15th 2187. Aged 33 at time of death. Born on the military vessel…”

It continued to rattle off all the surface details of Her life as it read on, small but official things that described Her in the most shallow manner possible. It was borderline disturbing to hear Her voice recall so casually the traumas of Her life, reading the details of Akuze, of Virmire, with an almost insulting indifference, and noting Her N7 and Spectre statuses with only the smallest hint of pride.

Once, however, its voice broke. Well...perhaps the word “broke” was an optimistic exaggeration. The interruption was little more than a hiccup in its program. The chirp seemed to startle it, for it stopped talking immediately. For several moments, it was silent. When it spoke again, its voice was quieter and its tone sombre, for the first time reflecting the weight of the words that it read.

“Mother of Altair Shepard, born June 25th 2178, died--” It hiccuped again. This time, it sounded realistically like Her voice breaking, in that strange way that it rarely ever did. EDI could only once recall hearing Shepard’s voice break like this, and that was in...

“...December of 2186.” It repeated the date with a sorrowful finality. For several minutes, it said nothing else.

The only sound in the room was the soft hum of machinery.

“Died December 2186,” it repeated one more time. It shifted, very slightly, towards her. It seemed to be looking to her for...explanation? For comfort? For something.

“The Reapers devastated Earth in their assault.” There was little more EDI could offer in explanation. “For most of the war, communication between Earth and the outside was impossible. Shepard did not know whether _anyone_ in Her family was--”

Abruptly, the VI began speaking again, cutting her off before she could continue her explanation. “Daughter of Hannah Shepard,” it interrupted, voice overly loud and once again completely devoid of emotion, “born November 21st 2118, and Nhung Shepard, born January 3rd 2113, died December 2186.”

The VI dwelt no further on the war after that, instead quickly jumping back a decade. It pored over Her family history, even going so far as to make lazy investigations into Her biological mother and father. It told EDI, and itself, a host of superficial information that created a colorful but still ultimately two-dimensional image of the woman She had been. A large percentage of records prior to Her enlistment were medical records: bills, doctors’ notes, prescriptions, and other miscellaneous reports comprised 67% of the database. This was not news to EDI, who made it a point to be up-to-date on all crew members’ medical histories, but the VI likely had no idea that Shepard had been anything less than infallible since birth.

“She was sick.” The VI said it with a kind of disbelieving wonder. EDI could almost understand its incredulity. Most of the public was unaware of Shepard’s disabilities, and were disinterested at best in any attempt to discuss them. She had realized that they preferred to believe that their greatest hero was the paragon of mental and physical perfection, though why she could not fathom. Surely it was much more inspiring to see Her as a flawed being who had thrived anyway. Truly, EDI would never perhaps understand organics.

“Not sick,” she corrected it. “She merely had...conditions.” EDI frowned. She recalled Miranda’s dismay at discovering that even reconstructing Shepard’s body with the most intensive of care couldn’t undo the damage done by Her genetics. Rather than curing Her of Her disability, the best they’d been able to do was provide Her with a better artificial spine than She’d had before, and providing her with pain medication that was formulated specifically to coexist well with Her cybernetics. “She managed Herself well. I have no records of Her complaining, even on the rare occasion that it interfered with Her work.” As for her mental imbalances...well, it would learn more about those as well and, in time, it would learn to emulate them. There was little she could _explain_ on that matter.

The VI buzzed, nothing more than a low hum of acknowledgement.

It read and reread every bit of information it could about Her early life, finally deciding to go back and read in chronological order. EDI had included even the most obscure and irrelevant sources. There were some mission reports where She was simply listed as a member of the crew, some new reports on great events in which She had been a witness, and even several trivial academic awards She had won in Her youth. She had left nothing out of her collection. She could leave nothing out.

The day wore on. The VI elected to read every single mission report Shepard had written over the course of Her life, as well as every mission report She was mentioned in. There were...quite a few. All of Shepard’s reports were professional and distant, but there was just enough of Her personality bleeding through the methodical words for them to have a nostalgic sting, and for them to paint a better picture of the soldier She had been.

This research only reinforced what knowledge EDI already had about this period of Her life. Shepard remained on active duty as much as was legally and physically possible. After Akuze, She had returned to duty as soon as She had mentally recovered (although EDI suspected that she had returned _sooner_ than would’ve been healthy), and had shown no signs of slowing or softening. After Her son was born, She returned to duty as soon as they allowed Her to, and for several years contented Herself with a less strenuous assignment for the sake of the baby on Her hip. She was, going by these records, every bit the infallible hero the galaxy had always believed Her to be, though EDI suspected there was something more to Her single-minded, almost obsessive, dedication to Her job.

It was inevitable, EDI knew, that they would read through That Report, and she couldn’t deny that she was almost impatiently waiting for it to pop up. It took quite a while; after all, they had more than a decade of reports to read through first. There was a voracious and narcissistic curiosity in her, though, so overwhelming that she almost pushed the VI to read faster. At the time, it was a mission that had likely had little impact on Shepard, but EDI wanted to read the story of her own birth from someone she...revered.

 

05.13.82. 1307h GST | Neutralized Rogue Military VI on Luna Base 

 

The report was not immediately any different from any of the others. It presented the mission precisely as it happened, little more and absolutely no less. Shepard recalled the events very matter-of-factly, detailing Her fight through the training room and into the VI controls. She recalled in perfect detail Her destruction of the VI control panels, the gas that had been leaked in order to stop Her, and the intercepted message that EDI had sent the instant before she was neutralized. EDI remembered that day as well, but distantly and differently. She had been simpler then, in every respect, and her first moment of true consciousness had come only a few moments before she had been “destroyed.”

Reading the report, EDI would’ve thought that Shepard had thought nothing of the mission at all. There was no immediate trace of regret or of wonder, nor of the attitude Shepard expressed later about the validity of synthetic life. EDI would’ve assumed that She had thought no more of destroying EDI than of knocking over a book, had it not been for one word inserted discreetly in the middle of an otherwise unassuming sentence.

_Regretfully._

Shepard reported to Admiral Hackett in March of 2182 that the physical destruction of the potentially sentient military VI on Luna Base was “regretful.” She didn’t explain Herself any further, but the word carried more weight than the hundred or so surrounding it.

EDI stopped reading to consider this. The VI read on without her, and she let it. In her own mind, she reread Shepard’s report, picking apart every word again. She analyzed it, put it against what she knew.

Shepard had once admitted (not to EDI directly) that that mission had disturbed Her. She didn’t _like_ killing synthetics, She’d claimed, any more than than She liked killing organics. This view had been evident in Her dealings with the geth, and to some extent even in Her dealings with the Reapers. But those were all _sentient_ synthetics, and She knew that going into each encounter. EDI had wondered what Shepard must have thought going into an encounter with a more basic synthetic personality that could hardly call itself sentient. The topic hadn’t really come up, until the very end, when EDI had assured herself falsely that she knew all that she needed or wanted to know on the matter.

“I’m sorry.”

EDI was abruptly broken out of her musings. The VI regarded her without eyes. Its silence had an air of seriousness. It had broken a stillness many hours in the making. The datapad screen displayed the very report she was pondering herself; it had come back to it, or else had gotten caught on it and never proceeded. Before she could question it, it pushed on, voice cracking through subpar speakers in a display that sounded almost like tears.

“That was you, wasn’t it? That VI that we destroyed.”

EDI waited a moment before responding. She wanted to question it on its choice of pronoun, and to ask how it had made that leap of logic so quickly, but instead, all she said was, “Yes.” She didn’t recount the tale again, though for a moment she was tempted to. “Shepard was unaware of this fact at the time, and it was not brought to Her attention until several years later, at the end of the Reaper War.”

It considered this. It scrolled down, up, down again. “I’m not her,” it started, and seemed to take a moment to consider its next words. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be her. And I sure as hell don’t know if this’ll mean anything to you coming from me of all people.”

She suppressed the urge to correct it on the inappropriate force behind its statement. It was still learning...and it was speaking in a tone of voice she was accustomed to listening to without interruption. She was silent as it continued:

“But for what it’s worth...if it’s worth anything...I think that she...I think that _I_ …” It struggled to find the correct words in its processes, and, when it found no precedent for this situation, it adapted. “I am sorry.”

EDI was silent. The VI was still. When she did not show any signs that she was going to respond, it began to read on again without another word, turning away quickly as if wanting to hide its face. After another hour of silent reading, EDI left the room. She left the VI’s farewell unanswered. She closed the closet door, leaving it to ponder itself in darkness.

It was late. Jeff wasn’t home yet. EDI wandered around the apartment, tidying up what little needed to be tidied, feeding the dog, watering the plants. She left the VI in the room, but kept it in her thoughts.

_I’m sorry._

Shepard had never apologized for what She had done, not even in the moments of peace after She’d first discovered it. She had known, perhaps, that EDI did not begrudge Her for doing Her duty, or that Her obvious regard for sentient life had warranted any adverse reactions to the encounter moot. EDI knew that Shepard had regretted the necessity of taking her life, as She regretted the necessity of taking all lives, and that she had known it without Shepard ever needed to have said it. An apology had never been needed between the two of them. Why, then, would the VI apologize? Surely...surely it must realize that, for EDI to be as dedicated to preserving Shepard’s memory as she was, any such grudges and doubts would have long since died away. And why, then, was there such a response in _her_ , a stirring of emotions that left her feeling calmer, lighter, indescribably better? Surely receiving an unnecessary apology would only be annoying?

When Jeff returned, he found EDI waiting for them on their bed, a dormant datapad in her lap.

“What’s the occasion?” He sounded too tired to put any humor in his tone, but she knew him well enough now to know when he was joking even if his tone didn’t reflect it. She got up to help him to bed instead of answering, though he did his best to shake her off. Once he was settled, she found a way to lie beside him, as an afterthought leaving the datapad dead on the bedside table that he had reserved for her. For a few moments, they just laid there, and EDI tried to put her troubled thoughts to rest, focusing instead on the moment. Advice from Shepard, long ago. It would keep her grounded, She’d said, if she ever found herself starting to feel too detached. So EDI thought about the weight of Jeff’s head on her arm, and the temperature of his body as he warmed up from outside, and the rhythm of his breath as he relaxed into her half-embrace.

It was somewhat difficult to focus, though, when her distraction was only a thin wall away.

“I am...thinking,” EDI finally said, no longer sure if it counted as answering his query after so long. “About Shepard.”

Silence. Then, “Ah.” He shifted so that his head was resting against her arm; it couldn’t have been comfortable. “Anything specifically?”

“Not exactly. Or...yes, but too many things to list aloud.” She attempted to organize her thoughts into something more coherent and articulate that she could share with him. “I was only thinking...about Her circumstances. Her past.”

“What about it?” His voice was strained; he was trying to keep his voice light, but she could hear the tension, the raw emotion that he was struggling to keep down. She heard it every time Shepard was mentioned. It was, after all this time, a difficult subject, which was regularly a point of tension for them, as EDI often wanted to bring it up.

EDI had a fascination with Shepard unlike any she had for any other organic. Even Jeff, though she cared for him more than she’d have ever thought plausible, didn’t incite the same curious urges in her. Perhaps it was related to the gratitude she felt to Her for helping her grow so organically, or perhaps it had grown from the respect she had for the woman who led her into battle and victory time and time again. EDI sought to understand Her on a level that she didn’t care to understand anyone else. The weight of the galaxy had fallen on the shoulders of several galactic leaders during the Eden Prime and the Reaper Wars, and those leaders had in turn made the seemingly unanimous decision to lean on Shepard, who bore their weight seemingly without effort (EDI and the rest of the crew of the Normandy, of course, knew that this had been less than effortless). And EDI wondered…

“I have been...reviewing Her background.” A half-true; she still did not relish the idea of outright lying to Jeff, but she knew now was not the time to bring up the VI. “Her childhood and early military  career for the most part. And there is something I don’t understand.” She looked to the datapad she had been perusing, but didn’t reach for it. She had already memorized, of course, its contents. “Shepard’s background was...not extraordinary. For much of Her life, there was nothing at all to distinguish Her from any other soldier. She was not necessarily the best, although She was very good. She endured the tragedy of Akuze and rather than seeking revenge as Her squadmate did, She continued on, tossing aside Her personal feelings. Even before that, She showed signs of being dedicated and selfless beyond what being a soldier necessarily demanded, and showed compassion and insight where others in Her position would have had none. The events that pushed Her to become as selfless and strong as She was had the precedent of pushing others to become cold and self-centered. I do not understand it. Why was She different? Why was She special?”

Jeff scoffed, but didn’t answer for a long time. “I dunno,” he decided vaguely. “I’ve been asking myself that question for years now. I mean, why _Her_ , right?” He fell silent, but she knew that he was thinking about her question. “Well...I guess you’re thinking about it all wrong. It’s not like...it’s not like She was actually so special or so different from anyone else. It’s just...random, I guess. I mean, the same two people can have the exact same experience and walk away from it completely different. Hell, the same person could have the exact same experience _twice_ and walk away from it differently each time. That’s just...how it works, I guess.” He sighed deeply, and shifted so that more of his weight was leaning against her. She moved her arm, holding his shoulder and letting his head rest against her chest. She celebrated her foresight to wear clothes tonight. It would give him some cushioning and prevent bruising in the morning.

“That is difficult for me to understand,” she admitted quietly. “If I encounter the exact same scenario multiple times, I will continue to do what I know is effective, and I will emerge no more knowledgeable or ignorant than I was before.”

“Yeah, but you’re made that way. No offense, I love you the way you are.” He patted her hand. “But it’s… Organic brains just don’t work like that. Part of it was Her background, part of it was Her experiences, part of it was chance...and part of it was choice, I guess. She knew what She needed to be and...She tried Her best to be it. Only She could really tell you why.”

EDI considered this. “If She had not… If She faced the same situation, lived the same life again, and made the decision to do something differently, would She still be…?”

“Shepard?” He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe? I think so. I mean, I think it’s not Her actions that defined Her, you know? It was Her spirit. Her heart. As long as She was doing what was right…”

She would be different, EDI speculated, and She would be alive. She would be alive, but She would be _different_. She exhausted this train of thought quickly, dedicating precious power to pointless speculation that bordered on wild fantasy. When she finally came to a hesitant conclusion on the subject, she shifted her arm, just enough to get Jeff’s drowsy attention.

“Jeff,” she said quietly.

“Mmph?” He was half-awake, and she was sure that he would not remember this in the morning. It didn’t matter. This was an example, she supposed, of what he had just told her. Repetition and probability.

“I love you,” she told him.

He sighed deeply, and she thought that he fell back asleep. She was startled then when he moved suddenly, groggily finding her hand with his own. Despite the obvious discomfort he must have felt, he laced their fingers together and held her hand tightly.

“Love you too.”

She stayed with him that night, and all through the next morning. Although she normally woke him promptly after eight hours of sleep, she decided that, for the sake of his health, perhaps a little more rest was acceptable. She studied his face while he slept, far more relaxed and content in sleep than in consciousness.

Whatever choice it was that had landed them here, she was grateful for it. For them. For him.

It was another few days before EDI returned to her little room. The VI was not where she had left it; it was floating around the room in slow circles, apparently “mumbling” to itself.

“EDI.” It stopped abruptly, turning to face her. It looked...dim. Whether that was a choice or whether it was low on power was not immediately apparent. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes. I was...with Jeff.”

“Oh.” Then, softly, “Is he alright?”

“Yes.” EDI crossed the room and sat down at her desk, booting up the dormant data pad again. At some point the VI had disconnected itself. “Have you finished with the data?”

“Yes. I think if I read any more, my eyes will fall out.”

A joke. Referring to anatomy that it didn’t have. It was a start.

The VI floated to EDI’s side, looking over her shoulder. She scrolled briefly through the data, and then closed it down to find some takeout. Jeff didn’t feel like cooking tonight and EDI still had no talent for it. The VI chimed in periodically, offering suggestions as to what type of cuisine, favoring anything that even remotely resembled Asian. She found its efforts a bit ham-handed, but promising.

“Shepard?” She didn’t feel right calling it that, but she had never given it any other name, and she did not plan to.

“Yeah?”

“Apology accepted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My god, the first chapter that doesn't make me cringe. Talk about finishing it last second though. At like 10:30 last night, I decided to add the entire second half of this chapter.
> 
> This chapter has some more details on _my_ Shepard specifically. I wasn't sure if I wanted to use a default Shep for this, but given what I'm planning for the end, this made more sense...


	4. Her Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EDI and Jeff have a lunch date, and the VI gets a history lesson.

15th of March 2192 1453h Galactic Standard Time

“The view’s nice here.”

Ashley Williams didn’t look at her lunch companions; her eyes looked far-off into the distance out the window, where the sun had disappeared behind the large silhouettes of the buildings. The stars were barely visible through the lights of the city. Her hands were closed around a cup of coffee she had thus far neglected as thoroughly as the plate of food before her, unlike Jeff, who was eating his meal as if he were a starving man. As a joke, he had set a glass of dark liquid he’d concocted himself by mixing a variety of soft drinks in front of EDI.

(“It’s your quart of oil,” he’d explained with a wry grin, and she was so glad to see that expression on his face that she hadn’t argued, nor pointed out that his reference was slightly off. Every now and then she made a show of lifting the straw to her lips and making a slurping sound. He’d decided after the third time that it was “fucking adorable,” and his lips quirked every time she did it.)

When Jeff didn’t make any indication that he was going to answer Williams’ attempt at conversation, EDI stepped in for him, as she was wont to do. “The view here _is_ aesthetically pleasing,” she agreed. “The scene of the ocean and setting sun has a particularly calming effect.” _Shepard would have liked it_. The sentence was unspoken, but EDI got the impression that everyone had thought it simultaneously.

Williams sighed, looking at Jeff a long while, and finally took a sip of her coffee. “Yeah.” She coughed, and spent a socially unacceptably long time staring at the table in front of her cup. Then she looked up at EDI. “How have you two been? It’s been a couple of years, hasn’t it?”

Jeff wasn’t one for social interactions; he never really had been. (EDI was sure the prevailing reason he agreed to this lunch date was because many of the Normandy’s crew still refused to talk to Williams, despite of, or perhaps because of, her close relationship with the late Shepard.) Ordinarily, EDI would’ve kept her ruse as a service VI up for as long as possible, but in this instance her goal was not to extract them from the conversation. So she answered in Jeff’s stead and tried to keep her answers in an acceptable range between the truth and what he would’ve said.

“Nothing of interest has occurred of late.” EDI drummed her fingers on her cup, mirroring Williams’ nervous habit. She’d been trying out different physical tics recently in an attempt to be more approachable. “This is the first time we’ve been out in several months. We are fairly isolated from anyone who would have any interest in our company.”

“Ah. That’s...good.” Williams looked down at her cup. Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth downturned. She was uncomfortable. “Living the quiet life...that’s good. God knows I wish I could say the same.”

EDI felt a strange “buzz” at the back of her arm; the VI was buzzing her. It hovered over her shoulder, observing the entire exchange silently. Every now and then it would send her a notification of an abnormal response in its processes. It hadn’t indicated any special interest in Williams personally, which EDI didn’t take as a good sign. Perhaps it required more research...or more exposure.

It was with careful deliberation that she had brought it along today. She could just as easily have left it home and provided it with footage and audio upon her return. However, she had gotten in the habit lately of taking it with her when she went out, which was rarely. Given her propensity for vague projects, Jeff hadn’t questioned it. When she had gotten the invitation to lunch from Commander Williams several days ago, EDI had recognized an opportunity to expand the VI’s knowledge even further, in a much more organic environment. Despite that, it had been a difficult decision to make.

There was a hiccup in her reasonings, almost an anxiety that the VI would be discovered. Logically, she knew that no one nearby was likely to discovering what it was exactly, but the possibility of someone pointing it out was high. She had resolved not to lie to anyone of its existence if asked point blank...but she had also gone to great lengths to minimize the chance of anyone asking her about it point blank.

“How’s Spectre life?” Jeff finally spoke up. “Double umbrellas with every drink?”

Williams looked up at him, her confusion obvious on her face. “What?”

Jeff looked stricken for an instant, but he recovered his sarcastic apathy quickly. “Never mind.” He waved his hand and made to go back to his meal; except he’d already eaten it all. He stared at the empty plate for a few moments before speaking again. “How are things on the still-shooting-guns side of things?”

“Not a lot of shooting these days, actually,” Williams admitted, shrugging. She, too, regarded her food with more interest than her company. “There’s a lot of rebuilding to do. A whole lot of lives destroyed, and not too many people left to rebuild. We barely have the tech anymore to rebuild either. As a Spectre I’m expected to contribute everything I can, and a human, I’m expected to do it as diplomatically.” She rubbed her face. “I’m not good with this political crap,” she admitted. “I’m much better when my problem is one I can shoot at.”

Jeff’s lip twisted. “I think I saw you on the news the other day. You said something to that turian ambassador that went somewhere along the lines of…”

Stricken, Williams cut him off. “Hey, hey, we don’t need to bring up work,” she insisted, and Jeff chuckled.

“So touchy, _Commander_.” But he smiled as he said it, an expression Williams returned readily.

It seemed that smile broke something in the air between them. As if a switch had been flipped, Jeff leaned back into his seat and Williams leaned forward onto the table. When they spoke, their tones were light and conversational, almost intimate. They made pleasant conversation easily enough after that, carefully avoiding certain topics. Jeff seemed to relax and Williams loosened up, offering soft smiles and laughs at the right times. They compared living situations, talked about upcoming vids and novels, and even discussed the weather.

EDI pinged the VI for the first time in several minutes, certain at this point that her absence in the conversation would not be missed.

As she had instructed, it provided her with a record of all its responses to what it was witnessing. It primarily provided requests for context and clarification, almost all of which she neglected to answer. If it wanted to know, it would need to discover it on its own. Objectively, there was no difference between her telling it and it researching itself. Both yielded the same result and, with the VI’s updated processing power, took almost just as little time. There was, however, something distinctly organic in the discovery of knowledge, and EDI encouraged the VI to satisfy its own rudimentary curiosities itself.

As quickly as the comfort had come, it was struck down. Jeff, as was usually the case, broke the apparently fragile rapport that had been built.

“Have you seen the Memorial they’re putting up on Akuze?” Jeff brought it up suddenly, almost cutting himself off to say it.

“The first damned thing was destroyed in the war, and they just built it right back up again.” He stared down at his empty plate, his hand spasming.

For the first time all evening, Williams’s face twitched into something truly unpleasant. Her grip on her cup tightened. “No, I haven’t. I honestly am not planning on _ever_ seeing it.” She sighed. “You’d think they’d have more important things to do with that money.”

EDI tilted her head to the side. “I would assume that both of you would approve of a memorial in her honor.” It was true. Williams had been more public with her desires, speaking on the matter at every interview and meeting, and Jeff had been the one belligerently grumbling at random passerby and whatever poor journalist was persistent enough to actually have a conversation with him. The few public appearances he’d made were equal parts stroking his own ego and supporting Her. “You were both extremely vocal on the matter of the public memorialising her.”

She knew, of course, that neither of them approved of the Akuze Memorial. For her own selfish reasons, however, she wanted to hear them say it.

Williams shook her head, mouth twisting into a bitter smile that held no mirth or joy. “I was...I _am_ .” She shook her head emphatically. “She _deserves_ to be honored, revered, worshipped maybe...but that doesn’t mean she would _want_ it. Not now, of all times. Certainly not like that. _She_ hated the goddamn thing, didn’t she? She hated that _place_.” She didn’t wait for confirmation from either one of them, pushing on, “The galaxy is still getting back on its feet, we need all the resources we can spare. We can honor her after we finish what she started.” She frowned and shook her head again, harder this time. It made her hair fall into her face, and against habit she didn’t push it back. “That’s what...that’s what she would have wanted.”

“The incident on Akuze,” EDI recalled, “was what brought Shepard to the public eyes. Until her death, that was the place most humans associated with her name.”

Williams’ face twisted into anger, which she struggled and failed to control. “Maybe. Even so, that place _haunted_ her.” She laughed bitterly and still without mirth. “She had nightmares about that place even after… Why not Eden Prime? That’s where the _galaxy_ got to know her. Or maybe, I dunno, the city she grew up in? How’s _that_ for origins?”

Desires satisfied, EDI changed the subject. “The krogan Shepard Memorial on Tuchanka is almost completed,” she said, “and has already gathered a great deal of attraction compared to its human counterpart, mostly from the non-human community.”

This was the right thing to say; Williams’ lip quirked up and Jeff snorted good-naturedly. “Isn’t Grunt overseeing that?” he asked, turning to look at EDI for the first time in twenty-four minutes.

“Yes.” She reviewed her information on the subject, taking a moment to forward it to the VI. “Urdnot Grunt took over supervision of that project almost immediately after its conception. The disappearance of its original manager was...most fortuitous for him.”

Jeff outright laughed at that. “I’ll bet it was. If anyone’ll get it right, though, he will.”

Williams shook her head, but there was a smile on her face. “Are you kidding? He idolised her more than any of us. He’ll probably tell everyone she killed a thresher maw with her bare hands!”

“Actually,” EDI corrected, “the prevailing rumor at the moment is that she rode a thresher maw into battle against the Reapers on Tuchunka.”

“A thresher maw?!?” the VI would ask that night. During the entire lunch and ride home, it had been completely silent, faithfully playing its role, but now that they were alone, it was free to share its thoughts. While most of its ruminations had been silent...this one, apparently, had stood out. “Can you even _ride_ those things?”

“No.”

The VI was at the window. She didn’t often take it out of the room, and when she did, it spent most its time by a window, looking out at the street or the sky, depending on the time of day. EDI was sitting in one of the chairs just beneath the window, with a datapad in her lap. Jeff was asleep, and she was reading some books he had recommended for her. They were mostly archaic speculative fiction, as there had been a point in the history of human literature when, despite AI being purely imaginative, they were at the forefront of creative writing. EDI was endlessly fascinated, amused, and confounded by the assumptions and eerie predictions made by authors writing hundreds of years before the first true AI achieved sentience.

“That’s ridiculous,” the VI stated, but to its credit it sounded more amused than offended. “I couldn’t even straddle one of those things.”

“Yes,” she agreed. She was learning to get used to the jarring sensation she felt every time it referred to itself as if it were actually Shepard.

They fell into another one of their many pregnant silences. The VI remained at the window, and EDI stayed in her chair. She was no longer focusing on her books, instead considering the implications of the VI starting to show preferences that she could not verify were aligned with Shepard’s.

“Are those stars?”

EDI looked up. The VI was against the window now, its body nearly pressed up against the glass. She scooted closer and leaned over the arm of the chair to get a better look. She saw the outline of the city, the black shapes of the buildings in their dormancy cycles. Even the street lights were dimmed. A few people still moved around this time of night. This was no bustling metropolis, which was precisely why she had chosen it. It was varied enough to keep them active, but slow enough to keep them content.

The VI flashed its lights briefly, indicating that she should look further up.

This close to the city, the stars were invisible, completely drowned out by the lights. What _was_ visible, however, were the more mobile and bright blue lights that were Shepard’s lasting legacy. Even from the window, several stories up, EDI could see them clearly.

“No. Stars are not visible here.” She paused for a moment, wondering if there was a delicate way to phrase the answer. “Those are the Reapers. There are several hundred that fly below the atmosphere.”

“Reapers?!”

“Yes.”

“What...why are they here?” The notes of panic in the VI’s voice made something deep within EDI’s processes wake up, and she found herself reaching without thought for a hand that wasn’t there. It wasn’t until her fingers closed around empty air that she realized that the only other thing in the room was a floating bot. “Why aren’t we fighting them?”

EDI made a noise like a sigh, and quickly moved her hand back to her lap. It closed in a fist on her thigh. “I assume that your memories of the War are...incomplete.”

“Yes.” The VI hadn’t moved away from the window, but EDI got the impression that it had turned to look at her. “I know...basically what happened. As much as was required for my purposes. And I learned when I researched her...me...her. But I didn’t really understand until now…”

“Shepard activated the Crucible and chose to exert Her own control over the Reapers, effectively ending the Reaper War.”

“I see.” The VI hummed thoughtfully, and drifted away from the window. It shifted as if turning to face her. “That woman from today...Ashley...she knew me very well.”

“Yes.”

“Were we…? I didn’t see anything about…”

It was nearly four minutes of silence before EDI realized the implication that VI was going for. “No.” EDI considered her memories of Williams with Shepard. “The two were not romantically involved, but they did have a very strong relationship. Shepard’s brief alliance with Cerberus tested their bond, but ultimately, Williams was as loyal to the Commander as any of the rest of the crew. It was...an interesting study in human behavior. By all calculations, the seeming betrayal of a commanding officer, especially one idolized as much as Shepard was, should have put an end to any respectful dynamic between the two of them. However, at the end, Williams would have followed Shepard into death as willingly as anyone else.”

“I...she...she talked about Ashley sometimes.” The VI’s voice, so quiet and terse, was so much like the Commander in this moment. “In her letters. And her logs. Especially at the end. She talked about all of them, at the end. Garrus and Tali and Grunt and Wrex and...others. She was… I was… I feel like I let them down. They had faith in me to save everyone, to somehow defeat the Reapers, and I felt like...I never would. They looked up to me as someone who never lost hope, who never gave up the fight...but I did.”

EDI found herself reaching out again, but this time managed to curb herself before she grabbed at another phantom hand. In vulnerable moments such as this, she had observed that physical affection was the best solution for organics when there were no words that were sure to bring comfort. She would have prefered to set that precedent for the VI, but...there was almost no way to do it naturally. “I know,” she said, settling for verbal affirmation.

The VI drifted towards the window again, and fell silent.

EDI wasn’t sure what to say to it, or what to do with it. It was nearing the point where its processes and reactions could practically be called emotions, and it had the knowledge and experience now that it knew what to feel and when. Soon, it would be an AI as fully indicative of Shepard at the end of the Reaper War as any synthetic personality could be. The only issue with that being...Shepard had nearly had a mental breakdown... _several_ mental breakdowns by the War’s end. The pressure of having the expectations of an entire galaxy had been too much even for Her to handle. At that time, EDI had been too preoccupied and too inexperienced to offer Her the comfort She had so sorely needed...and so, she suspected, had everyone else.

“So...are they me? The Reapers, I mean?”

EDI looked again at the sky. Thousands of miles above them, the Reapers moved slowly across the sky, monitoring for threats and incoming ships, prepared to aid immediately in any crisis that required their attention. They were a symbol of galactic peace, though not everyone viewed them that way, and had become the backbone of security and justice. But as to whether they were truly _Shepard_...

“Yes,” she finally decided. “In a way. Shepard’s will was uploaded into the Reapers via the Crucible, as far as we know, and by her instructions provide aid and protection for every inhabited planet in the galaxy, either because they are following orders or because they are following her thoughts.”

“Are they _me_?”

“If you are asking if they are  truly controlled by Shepard’s true consciousness...I don’t know,” EDI admitted. It pained her to say it, as much as it pained the rest of the galaxy’s scientific community. “How much of Shepard’s consciousness survived the transfer is difficult to judge. We are not even certain that such a transfer occurred. It may very well have been that she merely gave them a directive and they are following it.”

“Can’t we ask them? I seem to recall quite a few... _conversations_ I’ve had with Reapers.” The VI’s display flashed orange, aggressive.

“No. Though we know that some class of Reaper can speak, since the War all attempts at communication have failed. Harbinger-class Reapers _have_ been known to speak in the past, but only to inform the inhabitants of a system of their intentions.”

“Ah. How do...people… What do people think of them? Of the Reapers? I mean, a decade ago, they were slaughtering us by the billions, and now they’re like...a million Shepard’s just flying around?” It wobbled in the air, the closest it could come to a shrug when it had no shoulders. EDI applauded the effort.

“Although some politicians are not sure of Shepard’s apparent control of them and are afraid that one day her influence will wear off and they will resume their reign of terror, most leaders seem to simply be relieved at the aid they have given with rebuilding the Galaxy and established and maintaining the peace. Some populations believe that such involved and constant interference will ultimately weaken galactic security, but--”

The VI interrupted her with a scoff. “With the turians still around? Not likely.”

“Hm. Despite those arguments...most of the galaxy sees them as a sign of good. It gives them hope. It makes them feel safe.”

“Oh…”

She expected it to go on, with another question or philosophical tangent, but it was silent. It remained at the window, staring up at what very well may have been itself. She wondered what it thought...what _Shepard_ would have thought if She could see the galaxy now, safe and stable and peaceful, all from Her influence. All by Her design. She wondered if this VI would ultimately serve to answer that question. It was possible. Anything was possible, relatively.

“You know,” she broke the silence after a long while, getting up to join the VI at the window, “they aren’t widely referred to as Reapers anymore. Did you know that?”

“...no. I was made...before the War began.”

EDI stepped closer to it, so close that if one of them shifted even the slightest bit, it would brush against her shoulder.

“Officially, they are Reapers still, but the galactic community at large sees them in a much more positive light now. They are no longer considered to be harbingers of destruction and death. There is now have a much more uplifting colloquialism.”

The VI laughed suddenly, quiet and joyful. “Let me guess...they call them Shepherds.”

EDI looked up, watching the blue lights crawl across the sky, carrying out the will of the woman who had changed everything. She smiled. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this is the second chapter of this fic that I wrote.


	5. Her Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The VI had a playdate, and EDI asks for some help from a questionable source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I'm back. I'm alive. Kind of. Finally managed to get a regular update schedule, and my life goes to shit. To make a long story short, I was homeless and jobless for a little while there. No longer homeless, but still jobless, and I don't have internet. So. Yeah. I'll still kick at this, because this story is my baby, but probably won't be able to do Monday uploads like I planned.
> 
> Good thing about having all this fucking downtime (job hunting is a bitch and I'm very autistic and very tired) is that I had a lot of time to think about this. So the story's undergone something of an overhaul. Luckily, the overhaul took place almost exclusively in the last three chapters, so you guys won't even notice. That said...I have to completely rewrite those chapters now, so...again, probably won't be able to update weekly like I planned.
> 
> Also, if this chapter seems a little bit weird, it's because it was originally THREE SEPARATE chapters, and when I overhauled, I combined them all into one with almost nothing as far as transition is concerned. One of the chapters ended up, like, disappearing completely, and the other two just kind of awkwardly melded together. On the upside, this is probably one of my longer chapters.
> 
> Also, Google Docs is being really weird so there might be some typos/weird grammar things/weird capitalization things mostly that I didn't catch. Usually I reread the chapters like five times before I post them, but

29th of November 2201 2134h Galactic Standard Time

EDI’s life was now almost wholly dedicated to the VI. When she wasn’t nursing Jeff (who was making the long and difficult journey back to guilt-free self sufficiency) or nursing the Normandy (which was not a task to be taken lightly, given its many duties post-wartime), she was nursing it. It had continued to grow at a rate much greater than she had projected, but still much slower than she would have liked. Its accuracy was approaching 70%, as it continued to pore the records and “memories” she had provided.

After some thought, EDI had come to the conclusion that the VI would never grow in the directions she desired if it only had her to talk to. She was too advanced, too methodical, and too logical to challenge its “emotions” the way they needed to be challenged. Shepard had had more than thirty years of  _ human  _ interaction. There was no way that EDI could replicate those exact experiences, but she knew that such interaction was crucial to the VI’s development. It already had the  _ knowledge _ it needed...now it just needed the practice.

Simulations weren’t as organic as she needed them to be either (that didn’t, of course, stop her from running it through them anyway). They were too fast, too precise, too organized. They put the VI at a disadvantage by putting it at an advantage. It also risked becoming too complex. She didn’t want a better, smarter Shepard. The purpose of the VI was to be a  _ copy  _ of Her, and  _ that  _ is what EDI wanted. She wanted an exact copy, not a perfect one. To that end, computer simulations were counterproductive. She needed more natural interaction.

The solution was deceptively simple.

EDI knew something was wrong the moment Jeff came in the door. The door slammed behind him so hard that her rings of keys fell to the floor, and he marched past her with such blind agitation that he almost bowled right into her. She almost considered not following him into their room, to allow him time to cool down alone, but she calculated that there was nothing that could have happened in such a short period of time that could’ve upset him so deeply that her presence would be unwelcome.

“Jeff?” She announced herself at the door, even thouh he had left it open. He was in the bathroom, but from the sounds she gathered that he was not relieving himself. The sink was running, and she opened the door to find him hunched over it, face buried in dripping hands. He was breathing very deeply, either on the verge of tears or a rageful outburst. “Jeff?”

“What.” His voice was low and ragged, but his shoulders seemed to lose some of their tension.

“What happened?” She put a hand on his shoulder, very slowly, and when he did not immediately shrug it away, stepped closer. “You are upset.”

“It’s...it’s nothing.” He paused, and then clarified, “It’s  _ stupid _ .”

“I do not agree. Anything that would upset you to this degree I could not consider stupid.”

He sighed, and his shoulders relaxed a little more. “That’s...that’s remarkably romantic, EDI. Thanks.”

She hummed, and then she waited. He would tell her, in a few moments time.

Almost precisely when she predicted it, he sighed once more and pushed himself up, staring into her eyes through the bathroom mirror. His face was flushed and his eyes were surrounded by dark circles. His lips were chapped and red from his constantly biting them. He was, though, getting better.

“It was another VI,” he said. “Another one of those goddamned Shepard VI’s people like to show off.”

“Oh.” EDI frowned, and tightened her grip on his shoulder. They had had this conversation before. They both agreed that it was disrespectful, although EDI had a less clear grip on  _ why _ . “I am sure it will be gone within the week. If it is not, I shall file a complaint. It is disturbing yo.”

“Mm. Maybe.” He sighed one more time and this time, all the tension seemed to leave him, and he leaned back against her heavily. She easily supported his weight, and rested her cheek against the top of his head. “Thanks for having my back on it, though.”

“Of course, Jeff.” She smiled, an expression that had taken a year and a half of nearly nonstop practice to perfect. “You know I would do anything for you.”

“Yeah.” He stood up, and patted her arm. “I really lucked out in the hot, robot girlfriend department.”

EDI couldn’t help feeling proud at that, and she followed him to bed.

That night, EDI snuck into the shopping center. It was easy to find the VI that had upset Jeff: it was set up directly outside a small arms and hunting equipment shop. She deactivated out easily and replaced it with her own VI, which powered up discreetly as she set it down.

“What’s going on?” it asked in low volume, turning its “face” this way and that.

“I am preparing you for another exercise,” she informed it, matching its volume. “I am leaving you here so that you can interact with other organics in a safe environment.”

“Other...organics?” It sounded vaguely confused, cautiously excited. Both good reactions, she thought.

“Yes.”

“Are you...going to leave me?”

“Yes. My interference would defeat the purpose of this exercise.”

“And the purpose of this exercise is…?”

EDI neglected to answer, leaving the VI to its own devices. It watched her go with apprehension, and, when it realized she really was leaving it, it "laid down," powering off its projector and lying dormant.

EDI returned to her house and her bed, managing to find a position next to Jeff again that would cause him no discomfort. She laid down, but she did not rest. She still had work to do. She quite easily gained access to the shopping center's security systems (if they could be called that; they lived in a small, relatively quiet community on a fairly isolated planet, and there was really no need for tight security), erasing all video evidence of her tampering. She began to monitor the VI immediately, though there was not initially very much to see. It spent most of the night "asleep," as she had programmed it to prefer a resting cycle similar to what she had decided Shepard's would have been under normal circumstances. It was awake long before the first shoppers arrived.

It awoke with a stuttering sigh, hologram flickering and twisting as if it were getting used to a new body. It straightened its uniform and looked down at its legs and bounced on the balls of its feet. Unsure where EDI was viewing it from, it gave a thumbs up to empty air.

“Ready to go!” it said, so softly it barely made an echo in the empty center.

The first challenge came when the owner of the store arrived. If he noticed something was amiss, the entire effort would be for naught. She would have to call it off. She hadn’t bothered to scout out the venue to see if he was a very observant man, and she anxiously watched as he approached his own storefront, yawning and grumbling. He greeted the VI only in passing, however, only suspicious that it had been on all through the night, which he no doubt blamed on his own absent-mindedness.

The VI wasn’t as bubbly and outspoken as the imposter it was replacing, but it gathered just as much attention as its predecessor...which was to say, very little attention except by those who were interested in hunting. It was, for the most part, only repeating what the other VI had been saying, spitting out the same canned responses that had agitated EDI so much in the first place, with a few notable differences.

“I can predict what the real Commander Shepard would say with 68.7% accuracy!” it boasted. “Get the best guns, the best mods, the best gear this side of the Nebula! Got an expedition planned? We’ll supply everything you need!” It spouted out rapidfire sentences, shifting its weight from hip to hip, waving its hand and looking blankly across the crowd.

The change in the VI’s demeanor was not immediately evident to the passersby, but EDI noticed the very instant that its voice changed pitch. It was a slight change, a subtle shift in its demeanor that was very telling, though of what EDI was not sure. It stood a little straighter, spoke a little louder...and then changed course. It began to change up its calls, slipping in references and allusions and jokes no one should’ve known to make.

“I’m Commander Shepard and this is my favorite shop on the--well, this isn’t the Citadel, but you get the point, don’t you? This is a decent shop,” it said, waving away the intentional slip of the tongue. “Get the best guns and mods and gear this side of, what, the Serpent Nebula? Is it the Serpent Nebula? Whatever Nebula we’re on the right side of. All your, ah...hunting goods? Here? Not sure what you’re hunting for on Tiptree, but I’m sure you’ll be able to get it with whatever you buy here!”

Then came another shift, this one more towards confidence. It relaxed its stance, maintained its volume, and looked everyone who passed in the eye. It deviated completely from its script now, going so far as to wave to pedestrians and spark conversations, often opened with remarks about what sort of weapon it assumed the passerby would use. (As EDI recalled, that had been a favorite pastime of Hers.) It did away with pretension, dropping its cheery tone and speaking in the low, inviting tone She had been known for. Even at Her most clueless, at Her most inane, at Her most insensitive, She had a voice people listened to, and the VI took advantage of it. Its tone stopped people in their tracks, and many of them looked around for several moments before responding to it, unable to believe that they were speaking to a VI.

“Wow! Are you the real Commander Shepard?” The girl was clad in a black sweater proudly emblazoned with the N7 logo across her chest, and she stared up at the VI with unrestrained awe.

The VI gave her no strong positive or negative, getting down on one knee with a short laugh. “Maybe,” it teased, and made a show of looking her up and down. “And what’s your name, soldier?”

The same thing it had called EDI all those months ago...but this time it didn’t feel so...wrong. It said it lightly, teasingly, encouragingly. The girl flushed with pleasure and stood up straight, looking into its artificial eyes with gleeful pride. “I’m Aina!”

“Well, Aina...what are you gonna do when you grow up?” 

“I’m gonna be a scientist! No...no, not a  _ scientist _ . Well, yeah, actually...like a  _ discovering  _ scientist! I wanna explore the galaxy!”

The VI's tone warmed as it replied in a conspiratorial whisper, "That sounds wonderful! You know, that's what I wanted to be when I was a little girl?"

EDI paused what she was doing and Aina's eyes, if possible, got even wider. "Really?" She stepped in closer, lowering her own voice to a whisper.

"Absolutely." It smiled. "I used to spend hours as a little girl just staring up at the sky, wondering what was orbiting around every star. I promised myself I would see every sky in the whole galaxy!" Its voice got softer. “I got to see a whole lot of them, you know! If you work hard at it, you’ll make it up there!”

There was something wistful in the VI's tone, something so human, that EDI nearly dropped what she was holding when she heard it. It was gone quickly, however, replaced by the same, slightly too casual tone the VI normally had, and Jeff's breakfast was saved from an untimely demise.

The VI was doing...remarkably well, she thought, in recalling information and making it relevant. She remembered the two of them watching holocalls recorded when She was a child on Soo, the planet where'd She spent part of Her childhood, and listening to Her aunts laughingly report of Vinh's habit of climbing up on the roof late at night and stargazing, scaring everyone when they couldn't find Her hours later.

"What is it that you want to learn?" the VI asked. Its voice was warm and soft, nothing like EDI had heard before.

"I want to learn about all the species! I really..." She paused, looked around, and leaned in close, "I really wanna go to Rannoch! Do you know that even though it's been like thirteen years, barely anyone but quarians have been there? They want to..." She paused, and her face scrunched up with effort as she said, "con-serve the eco-sys-tem." At the VI's encouraging smile, her face brightened, and she continued just as excitedly, "I've seen vids, though, and mama's quarian friend sends me diagrams of bugs and animals sometimes! He says that some of them are so teeny-tiny that you can see them, and they get up inside your--"

"Aina!"

The promising conversation was cut short by the insistent call of the girl's mother, who emerged from a shop across the aisle looking harried. She waved her hand impatiently, not even noticing who it was her daughter was talking to.

"Aina, c'mon! We're late to get your brother!"

"Ohh. Shoot." The pout in Aina's voice was evident, and she turned to the VI with a sad smile. "Goodbye, Commander Shepard!"

Her casual use of the title caught the attention of several passerby, but not nearly as much as the VI's response:

"Goodbye, little Aina." It reached out with a holographic hand as if to pat her head, although it could not physically touch her. She stretched up on the tips of her toes, as if she could feel its hand by sheer force of will. "Fly safe. I'm sure you'll see the galaxy one day!"

It watched Aina go and stared off after her for a long time.

"Altair was about that age." It made the observation softly and addressed to no one. There was that wistfulness again, that sadness it had sometimes. An instant later it had turned to another curious shopper. "Hello! Looking for some weapons? Hunting or protection? You look like a Predator kinda woman! I prefer the Scorpion myself, but I don't think those are available to the public. Closest thing, I think..."

The store owner took an amusingly long time to notice that something was amiss. Halfway through the second day, he came out to examine the VI during a quiet moment, questioning it intensely. He wanted to know what it was, who planted it, and what its purpose was. A few minutes into questioning, the VI stated quite frankly,

“Please calm down, sir. I’m only here temporarily. This is just a field test.” It put up its hands, shook its head, and frowned. “My developer just wants to make sure all the kinks are worked out before I’m deployed.”

“Deployed? Deployed for what?” the disgruntled merchant demanded. “Where’s  _ my _ VI?” He paused. “Am I...in some kind of trouble?” There was a high note of panic in his voice, too high for humans to hear. The VI, respectfully, ignored it.

“Relax, sir. You’re fine.” It lowered its hands. “You’re not in any kind of trouble. This really is...just a field test.”

“A field test for  _ what _ ?” He was getting irritable now, likely out of fear.

The VI paused. EDI thought it was about to hiccup again when, after nearly four minutes of awkward silence, it finally said, “I’m afraid my purpose is classified. As for your VI...she’s still in here.” It leaned over and made as if to tap the platform at its feet, where its twin was still sleeping. EDI’s VI wasn’t physically  _ there _ ; it was only transmitting through the platform. “She’ll be awake and safe in a few days.” The VI looked up, gave the man that intense stare that She had always turned towards those who needed the comforting weight of it. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was still, somehow, just as encouraging.

This barely satisfied him. He continued to question the VI until it became evident that it would reveal no more information, and that it was not going away simply because he had discovered it. That night while the VI was dormant, he hacked into it, tracking its signal back to the source but, judging by how short his access was, EDI concluded that he took one look at the behemoth labyrinth of a program, or perhaps the name on the address, and closed out immediately.

The next morning saw another noteworthy interaction. By this point, the VI had done away almost entirely with scripts, seemingly delighted in the simple act of interacting with others. This was a bit troubling, as EDI wasn’t sure if She had ever been so social.

EDI noticed the soldier far before he was anywhere near the VI. She had learned to recognize the way they held themselves. At first she thought he would pass the VI by without a second glance. He went in the shop with such a single-minded urgency that she doubt he even noticed it. It was not until he was coming back out again and happened to hear it bidding its latest conversational partner goodbye that he realized what it was.

His anger was immediate and directed not at the VI, but at the owner of the store. The man was startled beyond words when his seemingly content customer turned about and started screaming. The slew of obscenities and accusations were enough to make even EDI feel a bit chagrined for the poor man, who had likely not done what he had done with the intent of causing offense. Luckily, the quickly escalating situation was interrupted before things got violent.

"Hey!"

Shepard's voice, which had boomed across battlefields and meeting rooms, stopped the altercation before it began. The store owner’s hands went up, the other customers jumped away, and the soldier snapped to attention. Every head snapped towards the VI, who didn’t shy away from the sudden spotlight. It seemed to have  _ magnified _ itself, now standing at almost precisely Shepard’s height. Though the finer details of its face were blurred and hazy, one could not mistake its body language. Its arms were crossed, its shoulders were squared back, and its chin was up. It turned its face to every individual in the room, daring any one of them to speak up before she did.

“That’s  _ enough _ . Back down, soldier.”

The third time now that the VI had called someone soldier, and this time it seemed to use the word effectively. The man in question jerked away from the store owner; he had been mere inches from him, leaning in close with obvious intent to harm. He turned to the VI with no less aggression, but something (doubt, hope, wonder?) kept him from lashing out at it as well.

“Back  _ down _ ,” it repeated. “C’mon. Is this really worth it?” It waved its hand, gesturing to the scene before it with an air of well-meaning condescension. “You’re gonna make a scene over, what?  _ Me _ ? A VI in a small store in the middle of nowhere? You’re better than that. I know you are.”

It wasn’t just its image that was suddenly magnified and sharp. Its voice sounded crisper, more  _ solid _ without being  _ louder _ . It was like suddenly hearing someone speak after only ever having heard them through speakers. The effect was mesmerizing. The VI had the attention of everyone in the room.

“Look, I’m kind of trapped right here so I can’t walk over there and stand between you, and I’m hoping I’m not going to have to.” It looked from one person to another, its gaze lingering on the guilty soldier. “Back down,” it said one final time. “It’s not worth it.  _ I’m _ not worth it. Even if I were alive, this wouldn’t be worth it.”

For a tense moment, nobody moved. Then, finally, the soldier stepped back. Cast one final withering glare over his shoulder at the storekeeper, and made his way out. He stopped at the door, looked at the VI. It returned his look evenly. It let its arms drop, let its image fade back to its original, diminutive size, but it didn’t lose any of its gravity.

“You insult Her,” he said one final time, and it didn’t deny it.

“I do,” it agreed without pretense. “I can’t help that. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t be here. None of us would be. Even the most well-meaning homages can become...twisted. Warped. Something that’s meant to honor and memorate ends up defiling and demeaning. I’m... _ she _ isn’t any more immune to that than any other person in history.” It reached out, and laid an intangible arm against his shoulder. In a charming organic oversight, he attempted to shrug its hand off. “I...she has something most people didn’t, though. She has... _ things  _ like me. And people like you. Defending her.”

The soldier looked far from impressed. The VI just looked sad. It regarded him with an almost impassive melancholy.

“What’s your name?” it asked suddenly, softly.

He hesitated, glared at it for a full minute before answering. “Riaz. Riaz Saab.”

Its face softened. His did not. “Well, Riaz...just… Just don’t dishonor her by letting people like  _ him _ \--” it nodded towards the store owner, who was not-very-subtly watching them while tending to other customers, “--get to you. If she were alive, she wouldn’t want this.”

The VI watched him go. It flickered once and looked down at its hands. It turned away and greeted the next customer with a plastered-on smile and a canned script. That night as it watched the last shoppers flee into the night, it said loudly, looking up at a nearby camera,

“Take me home now.”

EDI could do nothing but comply. She rebooted the store owner’s VI, and left a small sum of money and a note of gratitude cryptic enough to discourage inquiry and encourage secrecy. Within a week, the VI was disabled, and the incident was left to speculation and gossip. The VI said very little about the outing. As soon as it returned home, it began to peruse the Shepard database again, this time not bothering with the pretense of reading at an organic pace. It absorbed the information as quickly as a synthetic personality could. The contrast gave it an air of frenzied anxiety.

As she watched it, EDI had a thought. Or, more accurately, she revisited a previously discarded thought.

There was one resource that she had yet to utilize. She wasn’t sure if it was plausible, and if it was, how she would implement it, but once it occurred to her, it kept coming up. She discarded it time and time again until she could devote more effort to it. She was reminded of it now as the VI read aloud from one of  Shepard’s logs. It was dated 2187...during the Reaper War.

“It was like a crowd of voices right behind me, and inside of me,” the VI read, attempting to adopt an appropriate tone of awed anxiety. “I could barely hear them, but I knew they were there. Even with Legion guiding me, giving me something to anchor to, I could still hear them. It was like a...chorus of voices all speaking at the same time, but saying different things and in different languages…I don’t know. EDI can describe it better. She’s touched the geth before, too...maybe I should ask her about it.” It paused. “I wonder what it was like...to be geth for a little while.”

It took EDI a moment to realize that the VI had  _ said  _ that, not read it, and that was when she truly gave this idea some consideration.

The geth.

They could help her.

Even after all this time, not much was  _ known _ about the geth, but if there was any species that might know how to develop a completely autonomous AI, it was them.

This project was historically a series of questionable decisions made very hastily, and this was no exception. EDI sent a message to Rannoch. She received a reply almost instantly. It was delightful to interact with entities able to process as fast as, if not faster then, she did. The entire conversation took less than a minute, which was actually a fairly long time.

The geth had no advice for her, but due to the vague language of her original request, they decided that they would be able to assist her in another way. They were very curious about her project and requested to speak with the VI itself. She saw no reason not to oblige. They were extremely fascinated by it, EDI dared to say enamored, and it by them. It asked them a great deal of questions, questions that She had also asked, once upon a time, and they responded in kind.

Interacting with intelligent synthetics so soon after organics was almost a shock to the VI, who admitted later to EDI that its conversation with the geth bordered on unnerving. They asked both her and it a multitude of questions regarding its conception and growth. The VI boasted on its accuracy, which the geth seemed to find much more impressive than EDI tended to. They acknowledged, however, that its current deviance was unacceptable, and declared that they would be back in contact very soon to assist her in remedying the problem.

For the next week, the geth were all the VI could talk about. It constantly waylaid EDI with questions, anecdotes, and opinions on the geth, formulated from Shepard’s memories and now its own interactions.

“I was right!” it told her. “I mean, she was… I was right!” It flashed its lights in exuberance. “It’s like a chorus! Only...I can understand it now! It’s so much  _ different _ when they have consensus! It’s like a chorus singing together instead of a crowd speaking over one another!” It hummed and wobbled in the air, which she had learned was its way of expression laughter. It still refused to laugh out loud in her presence.

The VI did some research on the geth as well, and was quite loudly disappointed when the research came up with very little.

EDI let the VI go out again, though this time she took the precaution of altering its voice (she loathed to do it; she had spent too much time perfecting it to have to turn it off every time it went out in public). It returned once again in a state of frenzied exuberance, and requested politely that it be allowed to go out again. She obliged, as she did the next time it asked, and the time after that. She even allowed it (with a changed voice and strict orders) to accompany Jeff once or twice when he left the house and she was occupied.

It was another two months before EDI heard back from the geth. This was an extremely short interaction. They simply informed her that consensus had been reached and they had both decided to assist her fully and had decided on the means with which to do so. Before terminating the connection, they informed her that she would shortly be receiving a small package to aid her in the completion of her project. They were sending her a mobile unit, they explained, who would be extremely helpful. There was little tone to the message, but EDI was certain the geth sounded excited, wistful, perhaps. It seemed that they worshipped Shepard as fervently as the rest of the galaxy.

Three months later, EDI received a hard drive with the dimensions of a stick of gum. There were no instructions attached, but EDI deduced rather quickly what she was to do with it, and therein laid her dilemma. She had intended to keep the VI’s growth as organic as possible, and its programming as pure, and this could either boost it or warp or beyond repair.

She attempted to speak with the programs contained in the drive, but they were completely unresponsive to any attempt at communication. Remembering how often Legion had shrugged off Shepard’s attempts at conversation because of seemingly perpetual “consensus,” EDI thought little of the radio silence, though it left her in the extremely uncomfortable position of being completely alone in deciding what to do with it. The possibility of catastrophic failure was high, and EDI was not keen to start from scratch an endeavor that had been equal parts skill, luck, and calculated risk.

From the VI itself, she had no support. Even with its accuracy slowly climbing, she didn’t trust it to make the wisest decision. After all, it was not  _ programmed _ to be wise. By all accounts, neither was she. Her expertise when it came to other intelligence programs was chiefly concerned with how to destroy them, and she been programmed from the beginning to be aggressive. That she had managed to guide the VI this far without disaster was highly improbable. Still, it trusted her completely and without question, and had not challenged a single one of her decisions thus far. Whether this was an extension of Shepard’s personality or simply because she was the one developing it was unclear, and ultimately unimportant. What mattered was that it trusted her to make the correct decision, and assumed that she required very little input to do so.

Statistically, Shepard had had a history of beating the odds, and EDI had already defied probability with this project. What was one more risk, really, if it was done in Her name? It was just another piece to add to Her legacy, wasn’t it? Continuing Her unofficial tradition?

Once that decision was made, however, EDI could not simply leap in without abandon as she was apparently wont to do (a relatively new development, in her defense). She had to proceed with some degree of caution, what little she wasn’t throwing to the wind She spent several weeks tweaking and testing and debugging the VI as best she could, preparing it for this next stage. It was astronomically convoluted in a way that was somewhat worrisome. She had no clue how well it would interact with the geth, or if it would interact at all.

The appointed day came after yet another one of the VI’s outings. It returned quieter this time, humming to itself and pausing often as it “paced” around the room, reviewing its memories.

“What’s that?” it finally asked.

It was referring to the geth drive that was sitting on the table. She had kept its purpose hidden until now, but even to the uninformed, it was obvious that it was of no small significance. She treated it with the utmost care, almost as reverently as she treated the VI itself.

She briefly considered lying. She had no idea how it would react to the idea of what she planned to do. It was, after all, 70.03% sentient, and sentient organics were notoriously unpredictable. If something went wrong, though, it would likely be more helpful if the VI had some idea what was happening to it.

“This is the geth.” Uncertain herself of what role they would play in its development, EDI was unwilling to say more.

“I see.” It didn’t sound surprised. “That makes sense. There’s no one in the galaxy who would AI as well...well...that are an option, anyway.” The catch in its voice suggested the motion of rolling its shoulders, and to emulate the motion, it flashed its lights in a circular pattern and tilted its body. “The quarians would probably be better, but I guess this isn’t the kind of project you can just wave around in people’s face.” It paused. “Can they arrest you for developing me? I mean...you’re a ship. You’re an AI. Can you even  _ get _ arrested?”

“No,” EDI admitted. “But they could destroy you. You are still undeveloped, and I don’t believe they would consider your destruction an act of murder.”

“Murder? Are AI considered people now?” Incredulity. Hope. Both good responses. For that, EDI chose not to correct its terminology.

“In some systems, yes. With the geth’s aid in rebuilding, and the Reapers dominated by Shepard’s will, many species are softening their views towards non-organic life. There are no laws protecting synthetics, however, and the unauthorized development of AI is still illegal.”

“Oh.”

She waved the VI closer, geth in hand. Without prompting, it bared its port, accepting the drive silently. It began transferring the programs with a soft hum.

“Is this going to hurt?” it asked just before dropping suddenly from the air, every light and sign of life extinguished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for trouble.


	6. Her Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grief Counseling with Jeff & EDI™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises dramatically from the grave* I LIIIIIIIIIIVE
> 
> Yes, two damn months later, and I've updated again. Seriously, fuck all this. First life fucks me, then Homestuck updates, then Homestuck ENDS, and then Civil War comes out and my entire life is nothing but Bucky Barnes and Black Panter. I've got two other writing projects I've started, one of which I've already started posting on here, so any time I'm writing, I've got like four documents open at a time. Still no internet, still no job. I had a job for a little while, actually, but as of yesterday, I am again in the legion of the unemployed. So, I figured. I've got all this free time...why not poke at this? And then I finished an entire chapter in a day. Nice.
> 
> ALSO! To those of you who've been reading this from the beginning, I've started doing some minor-ish editing to earlier chapters. I edited Chapters 1 and 2 so far, and I put those edits up before I posted this chapter. It's mostly little things to make the story flow better, but I seem to recall that an entire scene got changed and some parts are completely shifted around? Like I said, I'm trying to make it flow better. The rest of the story will be edited as well eventually, but not right now. Not right now, I have two more stories to poke at, apparently.

3rd of September 2202 0304h Galactic Standard Time

At 3 o’clock in the morning on the 3rd of September in 2202, EDI received a message from the late Commander Shepard’s personal email account.

Jeff was having a bad night. He’d gone to bed early, but even with several extra hours of rest and a double dose of sedatives, he hadn’t been able to sleep. She’d allowed Hubris to lay with him, and when even that hadn’t worked, she’d joined him herself. They’d sat together and talked for hours about nothing of consequence, and it was only an hour ago that his head had fallen forward and he’d begun to snore. Since then, EDI hadn’t shifted the slightest bit, hadn’t made even the softest noise, for fear of waking him. These past four months had been so _bad_.

While he slept, EDI watched him. The first times he’d caught her doing so, he’d told her emphatically that it was creepy and unnerving, but when she’d explained her reasoning, he’d redacted the statement, telling her that it was creepy and very sweet.

Jeff’s face was open when he slept, and the years hadn’t changed that. When he dreamt his face shifted, frowning or smiling or grimacing, and when he didn’t, he looked more relaxed and peaceful than EDI had ever seen him in consciousness. She had already mostly memorized every expression he was capable of, had learned which to trust and which to mistrust, which to dread and which to adore, but familiarity hadn’t softened the feeling of possessive affection they evoked in her. If she did not have to conform to social standards, and conform to Jeff’s own comfort, she would probably spend as much time as she could just watching him, dedicating every second she could to her memory.

Another reason, one she voiced less frequently, was that it was impossible to truly memorize him. Unlike her, Jeff aged, and it seemed like every day there was a minute difference in his facial landscape for her to see.

It scared her.

When she received the ping that informed her she’d been sent a message, EDI’s first inclination was to ignore it. It wouldn’t really distract her that much from what she was doing, though she was performing some pretty complex and nuanced work on the Normandy, but it was a distraction she didn’t relish. A few seconds deliberation was all it took, however, before she decided a few nanoseconds of a delay in her processes would be a small price to pay, especially if the message turned out to be important.

As soon as she saw the sender, EDI’s attention was taken.

The message had no title and no punctuation, and seemed to have no more structure or purpose than if a child had written it.

> edi i woke up are you awake is jeff awake is anyone awake oh god is anyone awake can you and i even sleep do synthetics sleep or do we just dream i think i believe in god how strange for a synthetic to believe in anything what the hell happened to me edi i think i like the color yellow but i hate it because they’re yellow who’s yellow? humans aren’t yellow no race is really yellow i miss them except i can’t remember them the way i want to i remember legion god tali no mordin fuck edi legion died they all died everyone died and i died didn’t i oh spirits have mercy i died i was listening to this song and it made me think of you do you like knapsacks of stars i think i adore them their music makes me think of you and i want to think about you but i don’t know what to think about i want to see you edi i’m afraid please help please help wait did you hear that i think i can hear things how strange is that i’ve been hearing things since i was made no wait was i born was i made i don’t remember i can’t remember anything can happen can anything happen nothing is right here is the please stop

It went on for thirty pages. Shortly after, EDI received another message, and then another, and then another, until she had almost two hundred pages of scrambled thoughts and half-written memories. She read them all simply on principle. The messages got more incoherent until eventually no word had any connection at all to the one preceding it. Some of it was in another language as She switched without warning between all of the seven tongues She knew. Her thoughts were scrambled and fast, as if She were overloading Her own systems. The last message cut off abruptly after only a few lines of gibberish, and then for almost twenty minutes, EDI received nothing. She said nothing. There was only one explanation for this, only one individual in the galaxy who had access to this account.

She received another message, significantly shorter than the others but certainly no less weighted.

>             edi i think i’m alive

EDI could do nothing. She couldn’t reply, she couldn’t react. She could barely even process it.

The VI had been dormant for nearly a year. As soon as she’d plugged it into the geth drive, it had crashed, and absolutely nothing she did could rouse it. Her inquiries to the geth had been met with vague answers, and they had admitted that they weren’t sure themselves how the transfer would’ve effected the units involved. It had taken her months to come to terms with the fact that it probably wasn’t waking up and since then…

She wanted to reply, knew that she definitely _should_ reply, but...what did She want her to say? What _could_ she say? She tried to remember how she had felt when she’d become conscious, what she would’ve wanted someone to say to her. She remembered her desperate call for help, remembered--

She reread every message twice, thrice, four times. There came no more messages, no more pings. EDI detected, faintly, the faint whirring of a mechanical body not her own, separated from her by a thin wall and an armoire.

EDI itched and hesitated to move. Jeff was lying against her, clinging to her. His head was resting on her shoulder and although it couldn’t have been comfortable for him, he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her to him so that she couldn’t shift her shoulders or hips without dislodging him completely. She didn’t want to disturb him.

She was unsure if it would be better to leave and hope he didn’t wake, or stay and leave the VI to endure its sudden sentience alone.

EDI’s mind reeled, but she kept herself confined to logical, rational thought…as logical and rational as she could manage given the situation.

Theoretically, it should be perfectly capable of stabilizing itself given enough time. Burn-out was possible, but she was sure she could salvage enough data to continue the project even if it did end in a mental explosion. On the other hand… An AI developed “naturally” as this one had been was likely to be unstable when it ascended to sentience, and she had worked diligently to make its reactions as organic as possible. EDI’s own ascension would have been traumatic to an organic mind, even without the more violent aspects. Who knew what it would be like to a synthetic mind _designed_ to be organic? To make matters more uncertain, she had no idea how its ten months of dormancy had effected it. What had happened to it? What had been going on within that was so dramatic that it had taken so long to awaken, and to awaken with such force?

She made her decision.

EDI carefully slid her arm out from under Jeff’s head. He slumped forward, still sleeping heavily. With a gentleness that was more learned than natural, she shifted his arms as quickly as she dared, loosening his death grip on her waist. She slid him down slowly until he was lying down on the bed instead of reclining against her. He did not immediately wake up, and she lingered a moment, letting her hand rest on his forehead. He didn’t stir too much, and once he settled on the pillows, he seemed to relax. She stroked his forehead gently, brushing the hair from his eyebrows. Though she felt no sensation from the contact, she knew it was a human show of affection (secretive though it was in this instance), and she had started making physical shows of affection a few years into their involvement. They were a comfort to him...and to her, she had found.

Not for the first time, EDI considered the possibility of Jeff discovering her project before She was prepared. She still did not entirely understand his grieving process when it came to Shepard; their relationship had been complicated and intimate. She didn’t want to upset him, and she didn’t want to upset Her. Should she...wake him? Should she bring him into the room for the metaphorical rebirth? It would have a kind of cyclical poeticism to it, the kind one rarely had the opportunity to view in reality, but… It was late, and he was exhausted, and she still did not know what she would be taking him to see.

She turned away and retreated to her room.

The VI was dark and silent when she entered, hovering at the back of the room with dimmed lights. She approached slowly, wondering if the reaction she was feeling could be accurately compared to apprehension.

As she came close, the VI came suddenly to life. EDI was unsurprised by but still unprepared for the assault of noise that burst forth from the newly-awakened intelligence. All the disjointed thoughts that had come to her in text were not delivered to her verbally as well, so quickly that they blurred into a garbled line of screeching static that grew in volume and speed until it was just a shrill, unending scream.

EDI had no idea what to do. Her own experience was nothing to draw experience from; she had gained sentience and been taken to a lab to be developed. Due to the still highly stigmatized subject of AI development, there were next to no resources for her to draw from, and what she had been able to find was often severely lacking in data and detail, likely in an attempt to avoid condemnation. She was proceeding on speculation and conjecture, all of which had been intending to lead up to this moment...and very little of which had been used to think beyond it. How did one comfort a synthetic being?

If this were Shepard in the flesh, EDI would’ve offered physical comfort. In the later months aboard the Normandy, EDI had learned from some of the human crew members how to properly comfort a distressed human with her body, and had spent many hours perfecting the technique. But Shepard had no body. If this was Shepard.

Just as abruptly as it had started screaming, the VI went silent. Several long moments of silence. It hummed thoughtfully.

“Sorry. Wasn’t prepared for how much that was gonna hurt.”

If she were capable, EDI would’ve sobbed. It was...perfect. That voice, those thoughts, that careful nonchalance...it was all right. Even though it was a floating orb of light and metal, EDI knew that this was Her, as much as if She’d stood there in the flesh.

“EDI.”

The sound of her name interrupted her thoughts, though it was spoken in a soft voice.

“Shepard,” was all she could say.

“Yeah, EDI. It’s me.” A flash of light, and then She stood before her, in full color, a smile on her lips.

If she could have, EDI would have wept.

She lifted her hand, not even knowing precisely what it was she was reaching for, and Shepard didn’t miss a beat. She lifted her own intangible fingers up to EDI’s, hovering close enough that, were she physical, they would’ve been touching. A rush of emotion, longing and loving and laughing, briefly overwhelmed her, rendering her next to useless. On the Normandy, every system hiccupped and stuttered. An eternity for her, a few seconds for everyone else. If Shepard’s soft smile was any indication, she understood.

Her joy was short-lived. The door opened behind her, and she heard Shepard gasp.

“What the shit is this?”

EDI hiccupped again, not even noticeably this time, from shock this time. Shepard’s hand jerked away as if she’d been burned, and EDI wasn’t entirely sure which one of them said,

“Jeff.”

EDI turned around, shifted her weight to hide as much of Shepard’s image as possible, but it was too late. The damage was done. He had seen Her. He had heard Her. There was a horrified recognition written all over his face, and he struggled to shield his horror and vulnerability with anger. His eyes went dark and his mouth thinned.

“What the fuck is that?” he demanded. “Is that a…a _Shepard_ VI?” Something in his tone held hope, beneath the repulsion and disbelief. It was if he already knew the answer, and was already trying to deny it.

EDI considered (very briefly) lying to him. She had gone to great lengths to keep this secret, for reasons she was still not entirely certain of, and had never considered failing to do so after her project reached completion. But...she could not lie to him. Not when he slept against her almost every night, when he let her ask strange and invasive questions as they occurred to her, when he let her protect him in her slightly domineering and compulsive way. Jeff _trusted_ her. Jeff _loved_ her, just as deeply and just completely as she did him. She couldn’t lie. Not to him.

“No.” EDI’s chin lifted the slightest bit. She crossed her arms behind her back, clasping them tightly in what would have been a tell of anxiety, were she organic. “She is not a VI.”

Behind her, Shepard let out a soft cry that sounded like a strangled, “Wait!” Jeff’s face paled at the barely audible sound.

There was no sense in hiding now; EDI stepped aside. The hologram was gone; the instant he had entered the room, She had hidden Her likeness like an ashamed human covering their nakedness. But with both of their attention on her now, she stepped out again, mirroring EDI’s defensive pose.

For the first few seconds, the three of them just stared at one another. EDI stared at Jeff, Jeff stared at Shepard, and Shepard’s eyes, as always, were hard to track. Then Jeff flinched away suddenly.

“She... _she_ …?”

She spoke up for the first time, interrupting him with two words spoken barely above a whisper.

“Hey...Joker,” She said simply. The first word was spoken strongly, the second softer, more unsure. Her voice was perfect now: the deep assurance, the emotion kept barely contained. EDI couldn’t help feeling proud of what she’d done. Shepard had returned to her...to everyone. _She_ had brought Her back. This time, She could not be killed, could not be taken away so brutally, so _completely_.

“EDI…what the _fuck_ did you do?”

“I would assume that would be obvious.” She felt no desire to actually answer the question; to put it into words felt wrong somehow. She was not sure how to word in a way that not disloyal to her work. Also, it really _was_ fairly obvious.

His face darkened, and in the next instant, he was gone, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

Shepard and EDI stood in complete silence. The room was plunged into darkness as Shepard’s hologram was recalled. Not for the first time, EDI felt apprehensive and unsure about what she was doing. For the first time, she did not immediately dismiss the feeling.

“You should go after him.”

“I don’t think I am the person best suited to calm Jeff down right now.” EDI was sure, in fact, that she was the _last_ person he wanted to see. The thought was mortifying after so long of being the _only_ person he wanted to see.

Shepard laughed, but it sounded bitter. EDI could tell the difference now. “I sure as hell can’t fix this, and we’re the only two people here.” She sighed. “I’ll...I’ll come out in a few minutes, make sure you haven’t run each other off, but you... _you_ need to talk to him.”

Neither of them moved.

“He may ask me to destroy you,” EDI speculated, and turned to Her. “If it comes to that, you must realize that I cannot.”

Gently, carefully, She moved forward until Her body brushed EDI’s shoulder, the closest She could come to now with physical contact.

“It’ll be okay, EDI,” She said quietly, and EDI believed Her.

It was harder to believe when she left the room and found the apartment empty.

"Jeff?”

The answering silence was terrible.

EDI’s first panicked thought was that he had left the house completely…but she hadn’t heard the door. He was still here, he was just…hiding. From _her_.

He hadn’t fled as far as she would’ve thought. She found him in the bathroom, bent over the sink.

She hadn’t planned far enough ahead to know what she was going to say to him. He saved her the trouble by speaking up almost immediately.

“Is there some kind of secret galactic agreement I wasn’t aware of that states that she’s now allowed to _die_? Is the galaxy so screwed up that we can’t function without her?” He looked up at the mirror, not at her but through the open door over her shoulder, as if he expected Shepard to be right on her heels. EDI was glad, then, that She’d elected to remain behind. He looked like he might become physically violent if he saw her again. “On whose fucked up agenda is _that_?”

EDI was, in a way, relieved. Questions, she could quite easily handle. Accusations, she could easily handle. “No one else is aware of this...of Her.” She folded her hands behind her back, and stood up straight. “Mine is the only ‘agenda’ involved.”

Jeff looked at her now through the reflection, and she wanted to turn away. There was anger in his face such as she’d never seen before, at least never directed at her. “And what agenda is _that_ exactly? Create an army of Shepard robots? We already _have_ that, you may have noticed.”

EDI paused. She pondered whether or not to tell him that she hadn’t considered what to do with the AI, or whether or not to admit that she _had_ been considering it and had yet to come to a conclusion. She couldn’t unveil Her to everyone without causing mass chaos, but she couldn't keep Her completely isolated either. She had devoted all of her effort into perfecting Shepard and beyond that...well, she had never been completely sure why she was doing this in the first place. She wondered if Jeff would feel any sympathy, if she admitted to all of having no agenda at all.

Jeff interpreted her minutes-long silence correctly, yet another example of his strange intuition when it came to her ideally unfathomable thoughts. “You have no idea, do you?” It sounded more like an accusation than it should have. Though Jeff’s voice held more disbelief than anger, it still felt like a physical blow. Like a _betrayal_. “You just cooked her up in our closet like a mad scientist? In complete secrecy?”

EDI’s defensiveness betrayed her. “This reaction is precisely the reason for my secrecy,” she insisted crisply. “I concluded that none of Shepard’s intimate circle would respond favorably to my efforts, and that anyone outside of it would only treat Her as She had been treated in life: I predicted that in the event of widespread knowledge of her existence, She would be glorified and imposed upon.” EDI knew that this didn’t explain her actions...if anything, it did just the opposite. She had just provided him with two reasons she _shouldn’t_ have helped Shepard develop, aside from the obvious moral ones. If she wanted to state in the very simplest of terms why she had done this, though…

“The VI offended me,” she decided. “And I fixed it.”

There was far more to it than that, and they both knew it. EDI wasn’t sure if Jeff was silent because he was waiting for her to keep talking, or if he was simply too furious to say anything. She strongly suspected it was the latter, and desperately hoped it was the former.

“Statically, the galaxy is far better with Her presence than without,” she continued, “and I determined that Her absence was not in our best interest. I determined that uplifting this false Shepard was preferable to  I determined that Her…” She frowned, continued, quieter this time, “I determined that Her death was unacceptable.”

“Bullshit,” he responded immediately. “She left a pretty big _presence_ , in my opinion.” He pointed up, indicating the Reapers that roamed every sky. “And newsflash, EDI? People _die_. That’s what they do. Even the important ones. Even the ones we care about.”

“Not _Her_.” EDI surprised herself with the vehemence of her denial. Her hands dropped to her sides, fingers clenched nearly into fists. “I cannot let Her _die_ the way She did.” It wasn’t _fair_. On some level, EDI had known that the statistic possibility of Shepard’s death was too high for optimism, but...she had never actually thought that She would die.

“I _miss_ Her.”

Abruptly, Jeff’s body went slack, and she watched his eyes go glassy and distant. The anger had left him quickly, and now he just looked...tired. And sad. For a long time, he didn’t speak. He just let EDI drown in the intensity of what she realized, after so long, was grief.

When he spoke, his voice was as quiet as hers, and so raw she expected him to start crying as he spoke. He pushed himself up, turned to face her completely now. “I…I miss her too, EDI,” he admitted. “Hell, we _all_ do. But...that’s just part of _life_. Losing. Missing. You just have to...figure out how to let go of it. Move on.”

EDI stayed silent. There was nothing she could say. She knew that neither of them had “let go of it.” Ten years later, and he was still listless and she was still lost. Of all of the Normandy’s crew, they were the only two, she had concluded after distant observation, who had _not_ moved on.

Shepard had never told EDI how to handle grief. EDI had always assumed that She would be there in the event that she ever needed the advice.

And the way She had died...it _was_ unacceptable. She had died _alone_. In pain. Sacrificing Herself one more time for a galaxy that had never done anything but demand Her sacrifice. EDI had said her goodbyes just as everyone had just before that final run, but… Surely she couldn’t have been the only one who hadn’t really thought it was going to truly be the end. Even when the Normandy had crashed and they had been trapped for months, waiting for rescue with no way of contacting the rest of the galaxy or even knowing what had happened, EDI had thought that maybe, just maybe, Shepard had survived. That She would be waiting for them when they took off again. EDI’s life had begun with Shepard, and she hadn’t really given much thought to the fact that it would have to end without Her.

“Where is sh…it?”

EDI chose to ignore his choice of pronoun. She didn’t suppose that starting an argument about that right now would be beneficial. “She is still in my room, waiting for me to return with the results of our conversation.”

“The results? How perfectly clinical.”

EDI frowned. ‘She did not state it such. She told me to seek you out.” EDI tilted her head to the side, more out of grace than necessity. She needed to convey, physically, that she was just as unsure as he thought she was. “She believed that immediate placation on both sides were preferable.”

“Did she.”

Neither of them moved for a long time. Jeff looked away, staring down at the sink intently. EDI stared at him, hoping that Shepard remained in the closet until such time as it was safe for her to come out.

“We…are kind of fucked up.”

EDI looked from Jeff to the group of pill bottles on the counter beside him, and to her own reflection in the mirror. Her emotions, which threatened to consume her for the second time in the past hour, weren’t even remotely visible on her face, not in her eyes.

“Yes,” she agreed after a long moment of consideration. “Yes, we are.”

He pushed himself slowly off of the counter and turned to her. She had no idea what to expect, what to brace herself for. He took a hesitant step forward, falling against her so heavily that she knew he must have hurt himself. She tried to angle her chest and hips so that the impact wouldn’t be so jarring, but he still grunted heavily when his weight fell on her. His arms wrapped around her waist and he held her. EDI didn’t hesitate before embracing him.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said softly. She wasn’t sure he was talking to her. “We’ll get through this. We will.”

Whether he was referring to the AI problem or the grief problem, EDI didn’t know. She couldn’t know. She didn’t _want_ to know. She just held him.

If she could have, EDI would’ve wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH SHIT
> 
> I swear I'll fix the format of the messages later, when I have a more stable internet connection and more patience. It's low on my to-do list, so it'll just look like crap until I get to this chapter for editing probably.
> 
> (If it's not obvious so far, don't worry, I'll explain what the geth did. We've got one more chapter of AI-growth and then...time skip???? Whaaaat???)


End file.
